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OUTING ADVENTURE LIBRARY 

IN THE OLD WEST 

By GEORGE FREDERICK RUXTON 



As It Was in the Days of Kit 
Carson and the "Mountain Men" 

EDITED BY 

HORACE KEPHART 




NUMBER 1 



NEW YORK 

OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 

MCMXV 






Copyright 1915 by 
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 



All rights reserved. 



MAR 1 1 1915 

©CI,A398061 



/■ 



INTRODUCTION 

When we bought the Louisiana Territory from 
Napoleon, in 1803, it was not from any pressing 
need of land, for we still had millions of fertile 
acres east of the Mississippi. The purchase was 
made to forestall complications with foreign pow- 
ers, either with the arch-conqueror himself, whose 
ambition was supposed to be the mastery of the 
whole world, or with Great Britain, to which the 
western country was sure to fall in case France 
should be defeated. Possession of Louisiana was 
essential to our free navigation of the Mississippi. 

The vast domain thus added to our boundaries 
was terra incogmta. Aside from, its strategic 
importance no one knew what it was good for. 
So Lewis and Clark were sent out from the fron- 
tier post of St. Louis to find a route to the Pacific 
and to report on what the new country was like. 

The only commercial asset that these explorers 
found which was immediately available was an 
abundance of fur-bearing animals. Fur may be 
called the gold of that period, and the news that 
there was plenty of it in the Rocky Mountains 
lured many an intrepid spirit of the border. 
Companies of traders proceeded at once up the 
Missouri to barter for peltries with the Indians. 

5 



6 INTRODUCTION 

They established posts and arranged rendezvous 
in remote fastnesses of the mountains where they 
carried on a perilous but very profitable traffic. 
At the same time there went into the Far West 
many independent adventurers to hunt and trap 
on their own account. 

In the motley ranks of these soldiers of fortune 
the boldest and most romantic characters were 
the free trappers — those who went, as they ex- 
pressed it; " on their own hook." The em- 
ployees of the fur companies were under strict 
discipline that checked personal initiative. They 
were of the class who work for hire and see no 
compensation for an arduous life save the wages 
earned from their taskmasters. But the free trap- 
pers were accountable to nobody. Each of them 
fought his own fight and won the full fruit of 
his endeavors. Going alone, or in small bands 
who acknowledged no captain and would split up 
whenever the humor moved them, everyone a law 
unto himself and relying upon his own strong arm, 
they were men picked by nature for great enter- 
prises and great deeds. 

It was not love of gain for its own sake that 
drew the free trappers into the wilderness. To 
them a pack of beaver skins was a mere gambler's 
stake, to be squandered riotously after the fash- 
ion of Jack ashore. What did compel them to a 
life of endless wandering and extreme hazard was 
the sheer lust of adventure, and a passion for that 



INTRODUCTION T 

absolute, irresponsible freedom that can be en- 
joyed only in a state of nature. Never in our 
history have there been pioneers who took greater 
risks than they, or endured harsher vicissitudes, 
or severed themselves so completely from the civil- 
ization in which they were bom. Nowhere, and 
at no time, have men of our race been thrown 
more upon their individual resources in unknown 
regions, and through periods of great peril, nor 
have there ever been characters more fitly devel- 
oped to stand such strain. 

Cut ofF from the repressing and refining in- 
fluences of civilization, forever warring with this 
Indian tribe and cohabiting with that, it was in- 
evitable that most of these men should revert 
toward the status of white barbarians. And yet 
it would be a grave error, an injustice, to rate 
them with mere renegades and desperadoes. The 
trapper, whatever his faults, was stil] every inch 
a man. Bravest of the brave, yet cool and saga- 
cious in the strategy of border war, capable in any 
emergency, faithful to his own code of honor, gen- 
erous without limit to everyone but his foes, loyal 
to the death, frankly contemptuous of luxury and 
caste and affectation, imperial in his self-respect 
but granting equal rights to others, there was 
something heroic in this fierce and uncouth figure 
who dominated for a time the vast plains and 
mountains of the wild West. And it should not 
be forgotten that the early traders and trappers 



8 INTRODUCTION 

performed an indispensable service to their coun- 
try that no other men of their time were able, or 
at least willing, to do : they were the explorers, the 
trail-makers, for western civilization. 

General Chittenden, our first authority on the 
history of the fur trade, says of the mountain 
men : " It was the roving trader and the solitary 
trapper who first sought out these inhospitable 
wilds, traced the streams to their sources, scaled 
the mountain passes, and explored a boundless 
expanse of territory where the foot of the white 
man had never trodden before. The Far West be- 
came a field of romantic adventure, and developed 
a class of men who loved the wandering career of 
the native inhabitant rather than the toilsome lot 
of the industrious colonist. The type of life 
thus developed, though essentially evanescent, and 
not representing any profound national movement, 
was a distinct and necessary phase in the growth 
of this new country. Abounding in incidents pic- 
turesque and heroic, its annals inspire an interest 
akin to that which belongs to the age of knight- 
errantry. For the free hunter of the Far West 
was, in his rough way, a good deal of a knight- 
errant. Caparisoned in the wild attire of the In- 
dian, and armed cap-a-pie for instant combat, he 
roamed far and wide over deserts and mountains, 
gathering the scattered wealth of those regions, 
slaying ferocious beasts and savage men, and lead- 
ing a life in which every footstep was beset with 



INTRODUCTION 9 

enemies and every moment pregnant of peril. The 
great proportion of these intrepid spirits who laid 
down their lives in that far country is impressive 
proof of the jeopardy of their existence. All in 
all, the period of this adventurous business may 
justly be considered the romantic era of the his- 
tory of the West. . . . 

" It was the trader and trapper who first ex- 
plored and established the routes of travel which 
are now, and always will be, the avenues of com- 
merce in that region. They were the ' pathfind- 
ers ' of the West, and not those later official ex- 
plorers whom posterity so recognizes. No fea- 
ture of western geography was ever discovered 
by Government explorers after 1840. Every- 
thing was already known, and had been for fully 
a decade. It is true that many features, like the 
Yellowstone wonderland, with which these rest- 
less rovers were familiar, were afterward forgot- 
ten and were re-discovered in later years; but 
there has never been a time until very recently 
when the geography of the West was so thoroughly 
understood as it was by the trader and trapper 
from 1830 to 1840. 

" This minute knowledge was of practical use 
in many ways. When Brigham Young selected 
the valley of Great Salt Lake as the future home 
of his people, he did so largely upon information 
derived from the traders. When the War with 
Mexico came, the military forces of the United 



10 INTRODUCTION 

States invaded New Mexico under the guidance 
of men who knew every trail and mountain pass 
better than the most thorough reconnaissance 
could have taught them. When the national 
troops appeared before the gates of Santa Fe 
they were met by a people who had already been 
virtually won to the American cause through long 
intercourse with the traders. When the rush of 
emigration to California and Oregon followed, the 
emigrants found a highw^ay across the continent 
already established. When the Government en- 
tered in earnest upon the work of exploration, it 
was the veteran mountaineer who was always 
sought to do service as guide." 

It is most unfortunate that there exists in 
American literature no intimate and vivid account 
of the western hunters and trappers by one who 
had shared their camps and accompanied them 
on trail and warpath. We have many stories of 
their exploits, written in narrative form, with 
scarce any dialogue or characterization. The men 
themselves figure in such stories as little more 
than lay figures in a historical museum. It is one 
thing to describe events ; it is another thing to 
make the actors in those events live and speak 
in the reader's presence. Generally the contem- 
porary annals of the fur trade are as dry as a 
ship's log-book. The participants in those stir- 
ring scenes could not write, and the men of their 
time who could write lacked the experience. 



INTRODUCTION 11 

What American authors failed to do was ac- 
complished by a young English sportsman and 
explorer who lived among the trappers as one of 
themselves and acquired their point of view. Al- 
though not a professional writer, he was blest with 
a knack of putting his experiences, and those of 
his companions, so clearly before his readers that 
one can visualize both men and deeds without 
conscious effort. This man was George Freder- 
ick Ruxton, formerly a lieutenant in her Maj- 
esty's 89th Regiment. 

In Blackwood's Magazine of 1848 there ap- 
peared a serial by Ruxton entitled " Life in the 
Far West." This story excited so much inter- 
est that it was reprinted in book form, and went 
through two editions. These are out of print, 
and so the work is practically unknown to our 
reading public. 

" Life in the Far West " * is written in the form 
of a thinly veiled romance ; but the actors were 
real, the incidents were real, and they were strung 
together in a connected plot simply because that 
was the most effective way to show character in 
action. The story is not history, of course, but 
neither is it fable. Nearly every page gives con- 
vincing evidence of the author's intimate personal 
knowledge of the scenes and characters portrayed. 
He had scoured the continent from Canada to 

* Here published as " In the Old West." 



12 INTRODUCTION 

Mexico, from the Mississippi to the Pacific coast. 
He had associated with many redoubtable charac- 
ters of the old West — with men like Kit Carson, 
Bill Williams, the Bents, the Sublettes, Joe Meek, 
St. Vrain, Fitzpatrick, Killbuck, and La Bonte. 
He was equally at home among Americans, Cana- 
dians, Creoles, Mexicans, Spanish Californians, 
and Indians. Each of these picturesque types he 
has shown to the life. No narrative or formal his- 
tory of that time has described the pioneers of the 
Far West with such actual truth and fidelity. 

The wildness of the adventures related by 
Ruxton led many readers to suspect that they 
were mere romance. The author replied, in a 
letter to his publishers : — 

" I think it would be well to correct a misap- 
prehension as to the truth or fiction of the paper. 
It is no -fiction. There is no incident in it which 
has not actually occurred, nor one character who 
is not well known in the Rocky Mountains, with 
the exception of two whose names are changed." 

Fully half of the names of Americans mentioned 
in his book can be identified today with the men 
who bore them. Again he wrote: — 

" I have brought out a few more softening traits 
in the characters of the mountaineers — but not 
at the sacrifice of truth — for some of them have 
their good points ; which, as they are rarely allowed 
to rise to the surface, must be laid hold of at once 
before they sink again. Killbuck — that * old 



INTRODUCTION 13 

boss ' par exemple, was really pretty much of a 
gentleman, as was La Bonte. Bill Williams, 
another * hard case,' and Rube Herring, were 
' some ' too. 

" The scene where La Bonte joins the Chase 
family is so far true, that he did make a sudden 
appearance* but, in reality, a day before the In- 
dian attack. The Chases (and I wish I had not 
given the proper name*) did start for the Platte 
alone, and were stampeded upon the waters of 
the Platte. 

" The Mexican fandango is true to the letter. 
It does seem difficult to understand how they con- 
trived to keep their knives out of the hump-ribs 
of the mountaineers ; but how can you account for 
the fact, that, the other day, 4000 Mexicans, with 
13 pieces of artillery, behind strong intrenchments 
and two lines of parapets, were routed by 900 
raw Missourians; 300 killed, as many more 
wounded, all their artillery captured, as well as 
several hundred prisoners; and that not one 
American was killed in the affair.? TMs is positive 
fact, 

" I myself, with three trappers, cleared a fan- 
dango at Taos, armed only with bowie-knives — 

* In accordance with this suggestion, the name was 
changed to Brand. The mountaineers, it seems, are more 
sensitive to type than to tomahawks ; and poor Ruxton, who 
always contemplated another expedition among them, would 
sometimes jestingly speculate upon his reception, should 
they learn that he had shown them up in print. 



14* INTRODUCTION 

some score Mexicans, at least, being in the room. 

" With regard to the incidents of Indian at- 
tacks, starvation, cannibalism, &c., I have in- 
vented not one out of my own head. They are all 
matters of history in the mountains ; but I have 
no doubt jumbled the dramatis per s once one with 
another, and may have committed anachronisms." 

Scholars may detect some inaccuracies here and 
there, such as scarcely could be avoided by one 
who wrote, as we may say, in the saddle ; but these 
detract nothing from the essential verity of the 
book. Ruxton's purpose was not to write a chron- 
icle, but to exhibit vividly the mountain men and 
the natives in relation to' their environment. If 
he wrought disconnected incidents into a continu- 
ous story, and staged men together who may have 
been a thousand miles apart at the time, it was 
only because, to this extent, " fiction is the most 
convincing way of telling the truth." 

As the author of this book was himself a true 
knight of the wilderness whose brief life was filled 
with thrilling adventures, we append the follow- 
ing memoir by one of his friends : — 

" The London newspapers of October, 1848, 
contained the mournful tidings of the death, at 
St. Louis on the Mississippi, and at the early age 
of twenty-eight, of Lieutenant George Frederick 
Ruxton, formerly of her Majesty's 89th Regi- 
ment, the author of the following sketches: 

" Many men, even in the most enterprising 



INTRODUCTION 15 

periods of our history, have been made the sub- 
jects of elaborate biography with far less title to 
the honor than this lamented young officer. Time 
was not granted him to embody in a permanent 
shape a tithe of his personal experiences and 
strange adventures in three quarters of the globe. 
Considering, indeed, the amount of physical labor 
he underwent, and the extent of the fields over 
which his wanderings spread, it is almost sur- 
prising he found leisure to write so much. 

" At the early age of seventeen, Mr. Ruxton 
quitted Sandhurst, to learn the practical part of 
a soldier's profession in the civil wars of Spain. 
He obtained a commission in a squadron of lan- 
cers then attached to the division of General Diego 
Leon, and was actively engaged in several of the 
most important combats of the campaign. For 
his marked gallantry on these occasions he re- 
ceived from Queen Isabella II. the cross of the 
first class of the Order of St. Fernando, an honor 
which has seldom been awarded to one so young. 

" On his return from Spain he found himself 
gazetted to a commission in the 89th Regiment; 
and it was whilst serving with that distinguished 
corps in Canada that he first became acquainted 
with the stirring scenes of Indian life, which he 
has since so graphically portrayed. His eager 
and enthusiastic spirit soon became wearied with 
the monotony of the barrack-room ; and, yielding 
to that impulse which in him was irresistibly de- 



16 INTRODUCTION 

veloped, he resigned his commission, and directed 
his steps towards the stupendous wilds tenanted 
only by the Red Indian, or by the solitary Ameri- 
can trapper. 

" Those familiar with Mr. Ruxton's writings 
cannot fail to have remarked the singular delight 
with which he dwells upon the recollections of this 
portion of his career, and the longing which he car- 
ried with him, to the hour of his death, for a re- 
turn to those scenes of primitive freedom. ' Al- 
though liable to an accusation of barbarism,' he 
writes, ' I must confess that the very happiest mo- 
ments of my life have been spent in the wilderness 
of the Far West ; and I never recall but with pleas- 
ure the remembrance of my solitary camp in the 
Bayou Salade, with no friend near me more faith- 
ful than my rifle, and no companions more sociable 
than my good horse and mules, or the attendant 
cayute which nightly serenaded us. With a plenti- 
ful supply of dry pine-logs on the fire, and its 
cheerful blaze streaming far up into the sky, 
illuminating the valley far and near, and exhibit- 
ing the animals, with well-filled bellies, standing 
contentedly at rest over their picket-fire, I would 
sit cross-legged, enjoying the genial warmth, and, 
pipe in mouth, watch the blue smoke as it curled 
upwards, building castles in its vapory wreaths, 
and, in the fantastic shapes it assumed, peopling 
the solitude with figures of those far away. 
Scarcely, however, did I ever wish to change such 



INTRODUCTION 17 

hours of freedom for all the luxuries of civilized 
life; and unnatural and extraordinary as it may 
appear, yet such is the fascination of the life of 
the mountain hunter, that I believe not one in- 
stance could be adduced of even the most polished 
and civilized of men, who had once tasted the 
sweets of its attendant liberty, and freedom from 
every worldly care, not regretting the moment 
when he exchanged it for the monotonous life of 
the settlements, nor sighing and sighing again 
once more to partake of its pleasures and allure- 
ments.' 

" On his return to Europe from the Far West, 
Mr. Ruxton, animated with a spirit as enterpris- 
ing and fearless as that of Raleigh, planned a 
scheme for the exploration of Central Africa, which 
was thus characterized by the President of the 
Royal Geographical Society, in his anniversary 
address for 1845 : ' To my great surprise, I re- 
cently conversed with an ardent and accomplished 
youth, Lieutenant Ruxton, late of the 89th Regi- 
ment, who had formed the daring project of 
traversing Africa in the parallel of the southern 
tropic, and has actually started for this purpose. 
Preparing himself by previous excursions on foot 
in North Africa and Algeria, he sailed from Liver- 
pool early in December last, in the Royalist ^ for 
Ichaboe. From that spot he was to repair to 
Walvish Bay, where we have already mercantile 
establishments. The intrepid traveler had re- 



18 INTRODUCTION 

ceived from the agents of these establishments such 
favorable accounts of the nations towards the in- 
terior, as also of the nature of the climate, that 
he has the most sanguine hopes of being able to 
penetrate to the central region, if not of travers- 
ing it to the Portuguese colonies of Mozambique. 
If this be accomplished, then indeed will Lieuten- 
ant Ruxton have acquired for himself a permanent 
name among British travelers, by making us ac- 
quainted with the nature of the axis of the great 
continent of which we possess the southern ex- 
tremity.' 

" In pursuance of this hazardous scheme, Rux- 
ton, with a single companion, landed on the coast 
of Africa, a little to the south of Ichaboe, and 
commenced his journey of exploration. But it 
seemed as if both nature and man had combined 
to baffle the execution of his design. The course 
of their travel lay along a desert of moving sand, 
where no water was to be found, and little herbage, 
save a coarse tufted grass and twigs of the resinous 
myrrh. The immediate place of their destination 
was Angra Peguena, on the coast, described as a 
frequented station, but which in reality was de- 
serted. One ship only was in the offing when the 
travelers arrived, and to their inexpressible morti- 
fication they discovered that she was outward 
bound. No trace was visible of the river or 
streams laid down in the maps as falling into the 
sea at this point, and no resource was left to the 



INTRODUCTION 19 

travelers save that of retracing their steps — a 
labor for which their strength was hardly ade- 
quate. But for the opportune assistance of a 
body of natives, who encountered them at the very 
moment when they were sinking from fatigue and 
thirst, Ruxton and his companion would have been 
added to the long catalogue of those whose lives 
have been sacrificed in the attempt to explore the 
interior of that fatal country. 

" The jealousy of the traders, and of the mis- 
sionaries settled on the African coast, who con- 
stantly withheld or perverted that information 
which was absolutely necessary for the successful 
prosecution of the journey, induced Ruxton to 
abandon the attempt for the present. He made, 
however, several interesting excursions towards the 
interior, and more especially in the country of 
the Bosjesmans. 

" Finding his own resources inadequate for the 
accomplishment of his favorite project, Mr. Rux- 
ton, on his return to England, made application 
for Government assistance. But though this de- 
mand was not altogether refused, it having been 
referred to the Council of the Royal Geographical 
Society, and favorably reported upon by that 
body, so many delays interposed that Ruxton, in 
disgust, resolved to withdraw from the scheme, and 
to abandon the field of African research which he 
had already contemplated from its borders. 

" He next bent his steps to Mexico ; and, for- 



so INTRODUCTION 

tunately, has presented to the world his reminis- 
cences of that country, in one of the most fas- 
cinating volumes which of late years has issued 
from the press. 

" It would however appear that the African 
scheme, the darling project of his life, had again 
recurred to him at a later period ; for in the course 
of the present spring, before setting out on that 
journey which was destined to be his last, the fol- 
lowing expressions occur in one of his letters: — 

" ' My movements are uncertain, for I am try- 
ing to get up a yacht voyage to Borneo and the 
Indian Archipelago ; have volunteered to Govern- 
ment to explore Central Africa; and the Abori- 
genes Protection Society wish me to go out to 
Canada to organize the Indian tribes ; whilst, for 
my own part and inclination, I wish to go to all 
parts of the world at once.' 

" His last letter, written just before his depar- 
ture from England, a few weeks previous to his 
death, will hardly be read by anyone who ever 
knew the writer without a tear of sympathy for 
the sad fate of this fine young man, dying miser- 
ably in a strange land, before he had well com- 
menced the hazardous journey whose excitement 
and dangers he so joyously anticipated: — 

" ' As you say, human nature can't go on feed- 
ing on civilized fixings in this big village ; and this 
child has felt like going west for many a month, 
being " half froze for buffler-meat and mountain 



INTRODUCTION 21 

doin's." My route takes me via New York, the 
Lakes, and St. Louis, to Fort Leavenworth or In- 
dependence, on the Indian frontier. Thence, pack- 
ing my " possibles " on a mule, and mounting a 
buffalo horse (Panchito, if he is alive), I strike the 
Santa Fe trail to the Arkansa, away up that river 
to the mountains, winter in the Bayou Salade, 
where Killbuck and La Bonte joined the Yutes, 
cross the mountains next spring to Great Salt 
Lake — and that's far enough to look forward to 
— always supposing my hair is not lifted by 
Comanche or Pawnee on the scalping route of the 
Coon Creeks and Pawnee Fork.' 

" Poor fellow ! he spoke lightly, in the buoyancy 
of youth and a confident spirit, of the fate he little 
thought to meet, but which too surely overtook 
him — not indeed by Indian blade, but by the no 
less deadly stroke of disease. Another motive, be- 
sides that love of rambling and adventure which, 
once conceived and indulged, is so difficult to erad- 
icate, impelled him across the Atlantic. He had 
for some time been out of health at intervals, and 
he thought the air of his beloved prairies would be 
efficacious to work a cure. In a letter to a friend, 
in the month of May last, he thus referred to the 
probable origin of the evil : — 

" ' I have been confined to my room for many 
days, from the effects of an accident I met with 
in the Rocky Mountains, having been spilt from 



22 INTRODUCTION 

the bare back of a mule, and falling on the sharp 
picket of an Indian lodge on the small of my back. 
I fear I injured my spine, for I have never felt al- 
together the thing since, and, shortly after I saw 
you, the symptoms became rather ugly. However, 
I am now getting round again.' 

" His medical advisers shared his opinion that 
he had sustained internal injury from this ugly 
fall; and it is not improbable that it was the re- 
mote, but real cause of his dissolution. From 
whatsoever this ensued, it will be a source of deep 
and lasting regret to all who ever enjoyed oppor- 
tunities of appreciating the high and sterling quali- 
ties of George Frederick Ruxton. Few men, so 
prepossessing on first acquaintance, gained so 
much by being better known. With great natural 
abilities and the most dauntless bravery, he united 
a modesty and gentleness peculiarly pleasing. 

" Had he lived, and resisted his friends' re- 
peated solicitations to abandon a roving life and 
settle down in England, there can be little doubt 
that he would have made his name eminent on the 
lists of those daring and persevering men, whose 
travels in distant and dangerous lands have ac- 
cumulated for England, and for the world, so rich 
a store of scientific and general information. And 
although the few words it has been thought right 
and becoming here to devote to his memory, will 
doubtless be more particularly welcome to his per- 



INTRODUCTION 23 

sonal friends, we are persuaded that none will pe- 
ruse without interest this brief tribute to the merits 
of a gallant soldier and accomplished English 
gentleman." 

In the present edition no liberties have been 
taken with the text except by correcting a few 
obvious errors, and making the spelling conform 
to American usage. Footnotes by the present 
editor are marked (Ed) ; those unsigned are by 
Ruxton himself. 

One useful purpose that this book may serve is 
to give professional hunters and trappers their 
due as hard working men. From time immemorial 
it has been the fashion to look down upon their ilk 
as lazy vagabonds " too trifling to work for a liv- 
ing." Such is the almost universal opinion of 
people who never have taken a big game hunt them- 
selves, never even have seen hunters at work in the 
wilderness, but know them only as they take their 
well-earned ease after an exhausting chase. 

" The lazy hunter " is the most misjudged of 
men; for really there is no harder labor than the 
pursuit of wild animals for a livelihood. The 
libelous epithet perhaps came in vogue from the 
fact that hunting and trapping are apt to unfit 
a man for settled habits of industry. Or it may 
have come from observ^ing the whole-souled enjoy- 
ment with which the hunter pursues his occupa- 
tion. We have not yet got rid of the Puritan no- 
tion that no effort is worthy unless it is painful 



M INTRODUCTION 

to the spirit. The freeman of the woods calls 
his labor sport, and he laughs, in retrospect, at all 
the cruel toil, the starving and freezing and broken 
bones. Being utterly independent he seldom does 
things that " go against the grain," save as he is 
driven by necessity. But how sharp was the lash 
of that necessity, how often it stung body and soul, 
how many a hunter " went under," even in the old 
days when game was in the greatest abundance, 
is shown with perfect fidelity to truth in this pic- 
ture of " Life in the Far West." 

Horace Kephart. 



IN THE OLD WEST 



IN THE OLD WEST 



CHAPTER I 

AWAY to the head-waters of the Platte, 
where several small streams run into the 
south fork of that river, and head in the 
broken ridges of the " Divide " which separates 
the valleys of the Platte and the Arkansa, were 
camped a band of trappers on a creek called 
Bijou. It was the month of October, when the 
early frosts of the coming winter had crisped and 
dyed with sober brown the leaves of the cherry 
and quaking ash belting the brooks ; and the 
ridges and peaks of the Rocky Mountains were 
already covered with a glittering mantle of snow, 
sparkling in the still powerful rays of the autumn 
sun. 

The camp had all the appearance of per- 
manency; for not only did it comprise one or 
two unusually comfortable shanties, but the 
numerous stages on which huge strips of bufFalo- 
meat were hanging in process of cure, showed 
that the party had settled themselves here in 
order to lay in a store of provisions, or, as it is 
termed in the language of the mountains, " to 

27 



g8 IN THE OLD WEST 

make meat." Round the camp fed twelve or fif- 
teen mules and horses, their fore-legs confined by 
hobbles of rawhide; and, guarding these animals, 
two men paced backwards and forwards, driving 
in the stragglers, ascending ever and anon the 
bluffs which overhung the river, and leaning on 
their long rifles, whilst they swept with their eyes 
the surrounding prairie. Three or four fires 
burned in the encampment, at some of which 
Indian women carefully tended sundry steaming 
pots ; whilst round one, which was in the center 
of it, four or five stalwart hunters, clad in buck- 
skin, sat cross-legged, pipe in mouth. 

They were a trapping party from the north 
fork of Platte, on their way to wintering-ground 
in the more southern valley of the Arkansa ; some, 
indeed, meditating a more extended trip, even to 
the distant settlements of New Mexico, the para- 
dise of mountaineers. The elder of the company 
was a tall gaunt man, with a face browned by 
twenty years' exposure to the extreme climate of 
the mountains ; his long black hair, as yet scarcely 
tinged with gray, hanging almost to his shoul- 
ders, but his cheeks and chin clean shaven, after 
the fashion of the mountain-men. His dress was 
the usual hunting-frock of buckskin, with long 
fringes down the seams, with pantaloons similarly 
ornamented, and moccasins of Indian make. 
Whilst his companions puff*ed their pipes in si- 
lence, he narrated a few of his former experi- 



IN THE OLD WEST 29 

ences of western life ; and whilst the buffalo hump- 
ribs and tenderloin are singing away in the pot, 
preparing for the hunters' supper, we will note 
down the yarn as it spins from his lips, giving it 
in the language spoken in the " Far West " : — 

" 'Twas about calf-time, maybe a little later, 
and not a hundred year ago by a long chalk, that 
the biggest kind of rendezvous was held ' to ' to 
Independence, a mighty handsome little location 
away up on old Missoura. A pretty smart lot 
of boys was camped thar, about a quarter from 
the town, and the way the whisky flowed that 
time was some now, / can tell you. Thar was old 
Sam Owins — him as got rubbed out * by the 
Spaniards at Sacramenty, or Chihuahuy, this boss 
doesn't know which, but he went under f any- 
how. Well, Sam had his train along, ready to 
hitch up for the Mexican country — twenty thun- 
derin' big Pittsburgh wagons; and the way Ms 
Santa Fe boys took in the liquor beat all — eh, 
Bill? " 

" Well it did." 

" Bill Bent — his boys camped the other side 
the trail, and they was all mountain-men, wagh! 
— and Bill Williams, and Bill Tharpe (the 
Pawnees took his hair on Pawnee Fork last 
spring) : three Bills, and them three's all gone 
under. Surely Hatcher went out that time; and 

* Killed, "1 both terms adapted from the Indian figura- 
fDied, J tive language. 



30 IN THE OLD WEST 

wasn't Bill Garey along, too? Didn't him and 
Chabonard sit in camp for twenty hours at a deck 
of euker? Them was Bent's Indian traders up on 
Arkansa. Poor Bill Bent ! them Spaniards made 
meat of him. He lost his topknot to Taos. A 
clever man was Bill Bent as / ever know'd trade 
a robe or throw a bufler in his tracks. Old St. 
Vrain could knock the hind-sight off him though, 
when it came to shootin', and old Silverheels spoke 
true, she did: ' plumcenter ' she was, eh? " 

" Welly she wasn't nothin' else." 

" The Greasers * paid for Bent's scalp, they tell 
me. Old St. Vrain went out of Santa Fe with a 
company of mountain-men, and the way they made 
'em sing out was slick as shootin'. He ' counted 
a coup,' did St. Vrain. He throwed a Pueblo as 
had on poor Bent's shirt. I guess he tickled that 
nigger's hump-ribs. Fort William f ain't the 
lodge it was, an' never will be agin, now he's gone 
under ; but St. Vrain's ' pretty much of a gentle- 
man,' too ; if he ain't, I'll be dog-gone — eh, 
Bill?" 

" He is so-o." 

" Chavez had his wagons along. He was only 
a Spaniard anyhow, and some of his teamsters 
put a ball into him his next trip, and made a raise 
of his dollars, wagh! Uncle Sam hung 'em for 

*The Mexicans are called "Spaniards" or "Greasers" 
(from their greasy appearance) by the Western people, 
t Bent's Indian trading fort on the Arkansa. 



IN THE OLD WEST 31 

it, I heard, but can't b'lieve it, nohow. If them 
Spaniards wasn't bom for shootin', why was 
beaver made? You was with us that spree, 
Jemmy ? " 

" No sirre-e; 1 went out when Spiers lost his 
animals on Cimmaron: a hundred and forty mules 
and oxen was froze that night, wagh ! " 

" Surely Black Harris was thar ; and the 
darndest liar was Black Harris — for lies tumbled 
out of his mouth like boudins out of a bufler's 
stomach. He was the child as saw the putrefied 
forest in the Black Hills. Black Harris come in 
from Laramie; he'd been trapping three year an' 
more on Platte and the other side; and, when he 
got into Liberty, he fixed himself right off like 
a Saint Louiy dandy. Well, he sat to dinner one 
day in the tavern, and a lady says to him — 

" ' Well, Mister Harris, I hear you're a great 
trav'ler.' 

" ' Trav'ler, marm,' says Black Harris, ' this 
nigger's no trav'ler; I ar' a trapper, marm, a 
mountain-man, wagh ! ' 

" ' Well, Mister Harris, trappers are great 
trav'lers, and you goes over a sight of ground in 
your perishinations, I'll be bound to say.' 

" ' A sight, marm, this coon's gone over, if 
that's the way your stick floats.* I've trapped 
beaver on Platte and Arkansa, and away up on 

* Meaning — if that's what you mean. The "stick" is 
tied to the beaver-trap by a string, and, floating on the 



3a IN THE OLD WEST 

Missoura and Yaller Stone; I've trapped on Col- 
umbia, on Lewis Fork, and Green River; I've 
trapped, marm, on Grand River and the Heely 

(Gila). I've font the Blackfoot (and d d 

bad Injuns they are) ; I've raised the hair * of 
more than one Apach, and made a Rapaho ' come ' 
afore now; I've trapped in heav'n, in airth, and 
h — ; and scalp my old head, marm, but I've seen 
a putrefied forest.' 

" ' La, Mister Harris, a what? ' 

" ' A putrefied forest, marm, as sure as my 
rifle's got hind-sights, and she shoots center. I 
w^as out on the Black Hills, Bill Sublette knows 
the time — the year it rained fire — and every- 
body knows when that was. If thar wasn't cold 
doins about that time, this child wouldn't say so. 
The snow was about fifty foot deep, and the bufler 
lay dead on the ground like bees after a beein' ; 
not whar we was tho', for thar was no bufler, and 
no meat, and me and my band had been livin' 
on our moccasins (leastwise the parflesh f) for 
six weeks ; and poor doins that feedin' is, marm, 
as you'll never know. One day we crossed a 
canon and over a divide, and got into a peraira, 
whar was green grass, and green trees, and green 
leaves on the trees, and birds singing in the green 

water, points out its position, should a beaver have carried 
it away. 

* Scalped. 

t Soles made of buffalo hide. 



IN THE OLD WEST 33 

leaves, and this in Febrarj, wagh! Our animals 
was like to die when they see the green grass, and 
we all sung out, " Hurraw for summer doins." 

" * " Hyar goes for meat," says I, and I jest ups 
old Ginger at one of them singing-birds, and down 
come the crittur elegant ; its darned head spinning 
away from the body, but never stops singing; 
and when I takes up the meat, I finds it stone, 
wagh ! " Hyar's damp powder and no fire to dry 
it," I says, quite skeared. 

" ' " Fire be dogged," says old Rube. " Hyar's 
a hoss, as'll make fire come," and with that he 
takes his axe and lets drive at a cotton wood. 
Schr-u-k — goes the axe agin the tree, and out 
comes a bit of the blade as big as my hand. We 
looks at the animals, and thar they stood shak- 
ing over the grass, which I'm dog-gone if it wasn't 
stone, too. Young Sublette comes up, and he'd 
been clerking down to the fort on Platte, so he 
know'd something. He looks and looks, and 
scrapes the trees with his butcher knife, and 
snaps the grass like pipe-stems, and breaks the 
leaves a-snappin' like Califomy shells. 

"'"What's all this, boy?" I asks. 

" * " Putrefactions," says he, looking smart ; 
" putrefactions, or I'm a nigger." ' 

" ' La, Mister Harris,' says the lady, ' putre- 
factions ! why, did the leaves and the trees and the 
grass smell badly .f^' 

" ' Smell badly, marm ! ' says Black Harris ; 



34 IN THE OLD WEST 

' would a skunk stink if he was froze to stone? 
No, marm, this child didn't know what putrefac- 
tion was, and young Sublette's varsion wouldn't 
shine nohow, so I chips a piece out of a tree and 
puts it in my trap-sack, and carries it in safe to 
Laramie. Well, old Captain Stewart (a clever 
man was that, though he was an Englishman), he 
comes along next spring, and a Dutch doctor 
chap was along too. I shows him the piece I 
chipped out of the tree, and he called it a putre- 
faction too ; and so, marm, if that wasn't a putre- 
fied peraira, what was it? For this hoss doesn't 
know, and he knows fat cow from poor bull, any- 
how.' 

" Well, old Black Harris is gone under too, I 
believe. He went to the Parks trapping with a 
Vide Poche Frenchman, who shot him for his bacca 
and traps. Darn them Frenchmen, they're no ac- 
count any way you lays 3^our sight. (Any bacca 
in your bag. Bill? this beaver feels like chawing.) 

" Well, anyhow, thar was the camp, and they 
was goin' to put out the next morning; and the 
last as come out of Independence was that ar 
Englishman. He'd a nor-west * capote on, and 
a two-shoot gun rifled. Well, them English are 
darned fools ; they can't fix a rifle any ways ; but 

* The Hudson's Bay Company, having amalgamated with 
the American North-West Company, is known by the name 
" North-West " to the southern trappers. Their employes 
usually wear Canadian capotes. 



IN THE OLD WEST 35 

that one did shoot some; leastwise he made it 
throw plum-center. He made the bufler come, 
he did, and font well at Pawnee Fork too. What 
was his name? All the boys called him Cap'en, 
and he got his fixings from old Choteau ; but what 
he wanted out thar in the mountains, I never jest 
rightly know'd. He was no trader, nor a trap- 
per, and flung about his dollars right smart. 
Thar was old grit in him, too, and a hair of the 
black b'ar at that.* They say he took the bark 
off the Shians when he cleared out of the village 
with old Beavertail's squaw. He'd been on Yal- 
ler Stone afore that: Leclerc know'd him in the 
Blackfoot, and up in the Chippeway country; 
and he had the best powder as ever I flashed 
through life, and his gun was handsome, that's 
a fact. Them thar locks was grand; and old 
Jake Hawken's nephey (him as trapped on Heeley 
that time) told me, the other day, as he saw an 
English gun on Arkansa last winter as beat all 
off hand. 

" Nigh upon two hundred dollars I had in my 
possibles, when I went to that camp to see the 
boys afore they put out; and you know. Bill, as 
I sat to euchre and seven up till every cent was 
gone. 

" ' Take back twenty, old coon,' says Big John. 

** * H — 's full of such takes back,' says I ; and 
I puts back to town and fetches the rifle and the 
* A spice of the devil. 



36 IN THE OLD WEST 

old mule, puts my traps into the sack, gets credit 
for a couple of pounds of powder at Owin's store, 
and hyar I ar on Bijou, with half a pack of beaver, 
and running meat yet, old hoss ; so put a log on, 
and let's have a smoke. 

" Hurraw, Jake, old coon, bear a hand, and let 
the squaw put them tails in the pot; for sun's 
down, and we'll have to put out pretty early to 
reach Black Tail by this time to-morrow. Who's 
fust guard, boys.f' them cussed Rapahos will be 
after the animals to-night, or I'm no judge of 
Injun sign. How many did you see, Maurice? " 

" Enfant de garce, me see bout honderd, when 
I pass Squirrel Creek, one dam water-party, 
parceque they no bosses, and have de lariats for 
steal des animaux. Maybe de Yutas in Bayou 
Salade." 

" We'll be having trouble to-night, I'm think- 
ing, if the devils are about. Whose band was it, 
Maurice? " 

" Slim-Face — - 1 see him ver close — is out ; 
mais I think it White Wolf's." 

" White Wolf, maybe, will lose his hair if he and 
his band knock round here too often. That In- 
jun put me afoot when we was out on Sandy 
that fall. This nigger owes him one, anyhow." 

" H — 's full of White Wolves : go ahead, and 
roll out some of your doins across the plains that 
time." 

"You seed sights that spree, eh, boy?" 



IN THE OLD WEST 37 

" Well, we did. Some of 'em got their flints 
fixed this side of Pawnee Fork, and a heap of 
mule-meat went wolfing. Just by Little Arkansa 
we saw the first Injun, Me and young Somes 
was ahead for meat, and I had hobbled the old 
mule and was approaching some gcats,* when I 
see the critturs turn back their heads and jump 
right away from me. ' Hurraw, Dick ! ' I shouts, 
' hyar's brown-skin acomin', and off I makes for 
the mule. The young greenhorn sees the goats 
runnin' up to him, and not being up to Injun ways, 
blazes at the first and knocks him over. Jest 
then seven darned red heads top the bluff, and 
seven Pawnees come a-screechin' upon us. I cuts 
the hobbles and jumps on the mule, and, when I 
looks back, there was Dick Somes ramming a ball 
down his gun like mad, and the Injuns flinging 
their arrows at him pretty smart, I tell you. 
' Hurraw, Dick, mind your hair,' and I ups old 
Greaser and let one Injun ' have it,' as was going 
plum into the boy with his lance. He turned on 
his back handsome, and Dick gets the ball down 
at last, blazes away, and drops another. Then 
we charged on 'em, and they clears off like runnin' 
cows ; and I takes the hair off the heads of the two 
we made meat of; and I do b'lieve thar's some of 
them scalps on my old leggings yet. 

" Well, Dick was as full of arrows as a porky- 

* Antelope are frequently called " goats " by the moun- 
taineers. 



38 IN THE OLD WEST 

pine; one was sticking right through his cheek, 
one in his meat-bag, and two more 'bout his hump- 
ribs. I tuk 'em all out slick, and away we go 
to camp (for they was jost a-campin' when we 
went ahead), and carryin' the goat too. Thar 
was a hurroo when we rode in with the scalps 
at the end of our guns. 'Injuns! Injuns!' was 
the cry from the greenhorns ; ' we'll be 'tacked 
to-night, that's certain.' 

" ' 'Tacked be ,' says old Bill; ' ain't we 

men too, and white at that? Look to your guns, 
boys ; send out a strong hoss-guard with the ani- 
mals, and keep your eyes skinned.' 

" Well, as soon as the animals were unhitched 
from the wagons, the guvner sends out a strong 
guard, seven boys, and old hands at that. It 
was pretty nigh upon sundown, and Bill had just 
sung out to corral. The boys were drivin' in 
the animals, and we were all standing round to 
get 'em in slick, when, * howgh-owgh-owgh-owgh,' 
we hears right behind the bluff, and 'bout a minute 
and a perfect crowd of Injuns gallops down upon 
the animals. Wagh! war n't thar hoopin'! We 
jump for the guns, but before we get to the fires, 
"the Injuns were among the cavayard. I saw 
Ned Collyer and his brother, who were in the hoss- 
guard, let drive at 'em ; but twenty Pawnees were 
round 'em before the smoke cleared from their 
rifles ; and when the crowd broke, the two boys 
were on the ground and their hair gone. Well, 



IN THE OLD WEST 39 

that ar Englishman just saved the cavayard!. 
He had his horse, a regular buffalo-runner, pick- 
eted round the fire quite handy, and as soon as he 
sees the fix, he jumps upon her and rides right 
into the thick of the mules, and passes through 
'em, firing his two-shoot gun at the Injuns; and, 
by gor, he made two come. The mules, which 
was a-snortin' with funk and running before the 
Injuns, as soon as they see the Englishman's 
mare (mules '11 go to h — after a horse, you all 
know), followed her right into the corral, and 
thar they was safe. Fifty Pawnees came screechin' 
after 'em, but we was ready that time, and the 
way we throw'd 'em was something handsome, I 
tell you. But three of the hoss-guard got 
skeared — leastwise their mules did, and carried 
'em ofF into the peraira, and the Injuns, having 
enough of us, dashed after 'em right away. Them 
poor devils looked back miserable now, with about 
a hundred red varmints tearin' after their hair, 
and whooping like mad. Young Jem Bulcher was 
the last; and when he seed it was no use, and his 
time was nigh, he throw'd himself off the mule, 
and standing as upright as a hickory wiping-stick, 
he waves his hand to us, and blazes away at the 
first Injun as come up, and dropped him slick; 
but the moment after, you may guess, he died. 

" We could do nothin', for, before our guns 
were loaded, all three were dead and their scalps 
gone. Five of our boys got rubbed out that time. 



40 IN THE OLD WEST 

and seven Injuns lay wolf's meat, while a many 
more went away gut-shot, I'll lay. Hows'ever, 
five of us went under, and the Paw^nees made a raise 
of a dozen mules, wagh ! " 

Thus far, in his own words, we have accom- 
panied the old hunter in his tale ; and probably 
he would have taken us, by the time that the 
Squaw Chilipat had pronounced the beaver-tails 
cooked, safely across the grand prairies — ford- 
ing Cotton Wood, Turkey Creek, Little Arkansa, 
Walnut Creek, and Pawnee Fork — passed the fire- 
less route of the Coon Creeks, through a sea of 
fat buffalo-meat, without fuel to cook it; have 
struck the big river, and, leaving at the Crossing 
the wagons destined for Santa Fe, have trailed us 
up the Arkansa to Bent's Fort ; thence up Boiling 
Spring, across the divide over to the southern 
fork of the Platte, away up to the Black Hills, 
and finally camped us, with hair still preserved, 
in the beaver-abounding valleys of the Sweet 
Water, and Cache la Poudre, under the rugged 
shadow of the Wind River Mountains ; if it had 
not so happened, at this juncture, as all our moun- 
taineers sat cross-legged round the fire, pipe in 
mouth, and with Indian gravity listened to the 
yarn of the old trapper, interrupting him only 
with an occasional wagh ! or with the exclamations 
of some participator in the events then under 
narration, who would every now and then put in 
a corroborative, — " This child remembers that 



IN THE OLD WEST 41 

fix," or, " hyar's a nigger lifted hair that spree," 
&c. — that a whizzing noise was heard in the air, 
followed by a sharp but suppressed cry from one 
of the hunters. 

In an instant the mountaineers had sprung 
from their seats, and, seizing the ever-ready rifle, 
each one had thrown himself on the ground a few 
paces beyond the light of the fire (for it was now 
nightfall) ; but not a word escaped them, as, ly- 
ing close, with their keen eyes directed towards 
the gloom of the thicket, near which the camp was 
placed, with rifles cocked, they waited a renewal 
of the attack. Presently the leader of the band, 
no other than Killbuck, who had so lately been 
recounting some of his experiences across the 
plains, and than whom no more crafty woodsman 
or more expert trapper ever tracked a deer or 
grained a beaver-skin, raised his tall leather-clad 
form, and, placing his hand over his mouth, made 
the prairie ring with the wild protracted note 
of an Indian war-whoop. This was instantly re- 
peated from the direction where the animals be- 
longing to the camp were grazing, under the 
charge of the horse-guard. Three shrill whoops 
answered the warning of the leader, and showed 
that the guard was on the watch, and understocd 
the signal. However, with the manifestation of 
their presence, the Indians appeared to be satis- 
fied ; or, what is more probable, the act of aggres- 
sion had been committed by some daring young 



42 IN THE OLD WEST 

warrior, who, being out on his first expedition, 
desired to strike the first coup, and thus signalize 
himself at the outset of the campaign. After 
waiting some few minutes, expecting a renewal of 
the attack, the mountaineers in a body rose from 
the ground and made towards the animals, with 
which they presently returned to the camp ; and 
after carefully hobbling and securing them to 
pickets firmly driven into the ground, mounting 
an additional guard, and examining the neighbor- 
ing thicket, they once more assembled round the 
fire, relit their pipes, and puffed away the cheer- 
ing weed as composedly as if no such being as a 
Redskin, thirsting for their lives, was within a 
thousand miles of their perilous encampment. 

" If ever thar was bad Injuns on these plains," 
at last growled Killbuck, biting hard the pipe- 
stem between his teeth, " it's these Rapahos, and 
the meanest kind at that." 

" Can't beat the Blackfeet, anyhow," chimed 
in one La Bonte, from the Yellow Stone country, 
a fine handsome specimen of a mountaineer. 
" However, one of you quit this arrow out of my 
hump," he continued, bending forwards to the fire, 
and exhibiting an arrow sticking out under his 
right shoulder-blade, and a stream of blood tric- 
kling down his buckskin coat from the wound. 

This his nearest neighbor essayed to do ; but 
finding, after a tug, that it " would not come," 
expressed his opinion that the offending weapon 



IN THE OLD WEST 43 

would have to be " butchered " out. This was 
accordingly effected with the ready blade of a 
scalp-knife; and a handful of beaver-fur being 
placed on the wound, and secured by a strap of 
buckskin round the body, the wounded man donned 
his hunting-shirt once more, and coolly set about 
lighting his pipe, his rifle lying across his lap 
cocked and ready for use. 

It was now near midnight — dark and misty ; 
and the clouds, rolling away to the eastward from 
the lofty ridges of the Rocky Mountains, were 
gradually obscuring the dim starlight. As the 
lighter vapors faded from the mountains, a thick 
black cloud succeeded them, and settled over the 
loftier peaks of the chain, faintly visible through 
the gloom of night, whilst a mass of fleecy scud 
soon overspread the whole sky. A hollow moan- 
ing sound crept through the valley, and the upper 
branches of the cotton woods, with their withered 
leaves, began to rustle with the first breath of 
the coming storm. Huge drops of rain fell at 
intervals, hissing as they dropped into the blazing 
fires, and pattering on the skins with which the 
hunters hurriedly covered the exposed baggage. 
The mules near the camp cropped the grass with 
quick and greedy bites round the circuit of their 
pickets, as if conscious that the storm would soon 
prevent their feeding, and already humped their 
backs as the chilling rain fell upon their flanks. 
The prairie wolves crept closer to the camp, and 



44 IN THE OLD WEST 

in the confusion that ensued from the hurry of 
the trappers to cover the perishable portions of 
their equipment, contrived more than once to dart 
off with a piece of meat, when their peculiar and 
mournful chiding would be heard as they fought 
for the possession of the ravished morsel. 

When everything was duly protected, the men 
set to work to spread their beds ; those who had 
not troubled themselves to erect a shelter, getting 
under the lee of the piles of packs and saddles ; 
whilst Killbuck, disdaining even such care of his 
carcass, threw his buffalo robe on the bare ground, 
declaring his intention to " take " what was com- 
ing at all hazards, and '' anyhow." Selecting a 
high spot, he drew his knife and proceeded to 
cut drains round it, to prevent the water running 
into him as he lay ; then taking a single robe, he 
carefully spread it, placing under the end furthest 
from the fire a large stone brought from the 
creek. Having satisfactorily adjusted this pil- 
low, he added another robe to the one already laid, 
and placed over all a Navajo blanket, supposed 
to be impervious to rain. Then he divested him- 
self of his pouch and powder-horn, which, with 
his rifle, he placed inside his bed, and quickly cov- 
ered up lest the wet should reach them. Hav- 
ing performed these operations to his satisfaction, 
he lighted his pipe by the hissing embers of the 
half-extinguished fire (for by this time the rain 
poured in torrents), and went the rounds of the 



IN THE OLD WEST 45 

picketed animals, cautioning the guard round the 
camp to keep their " eyes skinned, for there would 
be powder burned before morning." Then return- 
ing to the fire, and kicking with his moccasined 
foot the slumbering ashes, he squatted down be- 
fore it, and thus soliloquized: — 

" Thirty year have I been knocking about these 
mountains from Missoura's head as far sothe as 
the starving Gila. I've trapped a heap,* and 
many a hundred pack of beaver I've traded in my 
time, wagh! What has come of it, and whar's 
the dollars as ought to be in my possibles? 
Whar's the ind of this, I say? Is a man to be 
hunted by Injuns all his days? Many's the time 
I've said I'd strike for Taos, and trap a squaw, 
for this child's getting old, and feels like wanting 
a woman's face about his lodge for the balance of 
his days ; but when it comes to caching of the 
old traps, I've the smallest kind of heart, I have. 
Certain, the old State comes across my mind now 
and again, but who's thar to remember my old 
body? But them diggings gets too overcrowded 
nowadays, and it's hard to fetch breath amongst 
them big bands of corncrackers to Missoura. Be- 
side, it goes against natur' to leave bufler-meat 
and feed on hog; and them white gals are too 
much like picturs, and a deal too ' fofarraw ' 

* An Indian is always " a heap " hungry or thirsty — 
loves "a heap" — is "a heap" brave; in fact, "a heap" 
is tantamount to very much. 



46 IN THE OLD WEST 

(fanfaron). No; darn the settlements, I say. 
It won't shine, and whar's the dollars? Hows'- 
ever, beaver's bound to rise; human natur' can't 
go on selling beaver a dollar a pound ; no, no, that 
arn't a going to shine much longer, I know. 
Them was the times when this child first went to 
the mountains : six dollars the plew — old 'un or 
kitten! Wagh! but it's bound to rise, I says 
agin ; and hyar's a coon knows whar to lay his 
hand on a dozen pack right handy, and then he'll 
take the Taos trail, wagh ! " 

Thus soliloquizing, Killbuck knocked the ashes 
from his pipe, and placed it in the gaily orna- 
mented case that hung round his neck, drew his 
knife-belt a couple of holes tighter, resumed his 
pouch and powder-horn, took his rifle, which he 
carefully covered with the folds of his Navajo 
blanket, and, striding into the darkness, cautiously 
reconnoitered the vicinity of the camp. When he 
returned to the fire he sat himself down as before, 
but this time with his rifle across his lap ; and at 
intervals his keen gray eyes glanced piercingly 
around, particularly towards an old weather- 
beaten and grizzled mule, who now, old stager 
as she was, having filled her belly, stood lazily 
over her picket-pin, with her head bent down and 
her long ears flapping over her face, her limbs 
gathered under her, and her back arched to throw 
off" the rain, tottering from side to side as she 
rested and slept. 



IN THE OLD WEST 47 

" Yep, old gal ! " cried Killbuck to the animal, 
at the same time picking a piece of burnt wood 
from the fire and throwing it at her, at which the 
mule gathered itself up and cocked her ears as 
she recognized her master's voice. " Yep, old gal ! 
and keep your nose open ; thar's brown skin about, 
I'm thinkin', and maybe you'll get roped (lasso'd) 
by a Rapaho afore mornin'.'* Again the old 
trapper settled himself before the fire ; and soon 
his head began to nod, as drowsiness stole over 
him. Already he was in the land of dreams ; rev- 
elling amongst bands of " fat cow," or hunting 
along a stream well peopled with beaver; with no 
Indian " sign " to disturb him, and the merry 
rendezvous in close perspective, and his peltry 
selling briskly at six dollars the plew, and galore 
of alcohol to ratify the trade. Or, perhaps, 
threading the back trail of his memory, he passed 
rapidly through the perilous vicissitudes of his 
hard, hard life — starving one day, reveling in 
abundance the next; now beset by whooping sav- 
ages thirsting for his blood, baying his enemies 
lik:e the hunted deer, but with the unflinching 
courage of a man; now, all care thrown aside, 
secure and forgetful of the past, a welcome guest 
in the hospitable trading fort; or back, as the 
trail gets fainter, to his childhood's home in the 
brown forests of old Kentuck, tended and cared 
for — his only thought to enjoy the hominy and 
johnny cakes of his thrifty mother. Once more, 



48 IN THE OLD WEST 

in warm and well-remembered homespun, he sits 
on the snake-fence round the old clearing, and, 
munching his hoe-cake at set of sun, listens to the 
mournful note of the whip-poor-will, or the harsh 
cry of the noisy catbird, or watches the agile gam- 
bols of the squirrels as they chase each other, 
chattering the while, from branch to branch of 
the lofty tamarisks, wondering how long it will 
be before he will be able to lift his father's heavy 
rifle, and use it against the tempting game. 
Sleep, however, sat lightly on the eyes of the wary 
mountaineer, and a snort from thQ old mule in an 
instant stretched his every nerve. Without a 
movement of his body, his keen eye fixed itself 
upon the mule, which now stood with head bent 
round, and eyes and ears pointed in one direction, 
snufiing the night air and snorting with apparent 
fear. A low sound from the wakeful hunter 
roused the others from their sleep; and raising 
their bodies from their well-soaked beds, a single 
word apprised them of their danger. 

"Injuns!" 

Scarcely was the word out of Killbuck's lips, 
when, above the howling of the furious wind and 
the pattering of the rain, a hundred savage yells 
broke suddenly upon their ears from all directions 
round the camp ; a score of rifle-shots rattled from 
the thicket, and a cloud of arrows whistled 
through the air, whilst a crowd of Indians charged 
upon the picketed animals. " Owgh ! owgh — 



IN THE OLD WEST 49 

owgh — owgh — g-h-h ! " "A foot, by gor ! " 
shouted Killbuck, " and the old mule gone at that. 
On 'em, boys, for old Kentuck ! " And he rushed 
towards his mule, which jumped and snorted mad 
with fright, as a naked Indian strove to fasten a 
lariat round her nose, having already cut the rope 
which fastened her to the picket-pin. 

" Quit that, you cussed devil ! " roared the trap- 
per, as he jumped upon the savage, and, without 
raising his rifle to his shoulder, made a deliberate 
thrust with the muzzle at his naked breast, strik- 
ing him full, and at the same time pulling the trig- 
ger, actually driving the Indian two paces back- 
wards with the shock, when he fell in a heap, and 
dead. But at the same moment, an Indian, sweep- 
ing his club round his head, brought it with fright- 
ful force down upon Killbuck. For a moment the 
hunter staggered, threw out his arms wildly into 
the air, and fell headlong to the ground. 

" Owgh ! owgh, owgh-h-h ! " cried the Rapaho, 
and, striding over the prostrate body, he seized 
with his left hand the middle lock of the trapper's 
long hair, and drew his knife round the head to sep- 
arate the scalp from the skull. As he bent over to 
his work, the trapper named La Bonte saw his 
companion's peril, rushed quick as thought at the 
Indian, and buried his knife to the hilt between 
his shoulders. With a gasping shudder the 
Rapaho fell dead upon the prostrate body of his 
foe. 



50 IN THE OLD WEST 

The attack, however, lasted but a few seconds. 
The dash at the animals had been entirely suc- 
cessful, and, driving them before them with loud 
cries, the Indians disappeared quickly in the dark- 
ness. Without waiting for daylight, two of the 
three trappers who alone were to be seen, and 
who had been within the shanties at the time of 
attack, without a moment's delay commenced 
packing two horses, which having been fastened 
to the shanties had escaped the Indians, and, plac- 
ing their squaws upon them, showering curses and 
imprecations on their enemies, left the camp, fear- 
ful of another onset, and resolved to retreat and 
cache themselves until the danger was over. Not 
so La Bonte, who, stout and true, had done his 
best in the fight, and now sought the body of his 
old comrade, from which, before he could examine 
the wounds, he had first to remove the corpse of 
the Indian he had slain. Killbuck still breathed. 
He had been stunned; but, revived by the cold 
rain beating upon his face, he soon opened his 
eyes, and recognized his trusty friend, who, sitting 
down, lifted his head into his lap, and wiped away 
the blood that streamed from the wounded scalp. 

" Is the top-knot gone, boy ? " asked Killbuck ; 
" for my head feels queersome, I tell you." 

" Thar's the Injun as felt like lifting it," an- 
swered the other, kicking the dead body with his 
foot. 

" Wagh ! boy, you've struck a coup ; so scalp 



IN THE OLD WEST 61 

the nigger right off, and then fetch me a drink." 
The morning broke clear and cold. With the 
exception of a light cloud which hung over Pike's 
Peak, the sky was spotless; and a perfect calm 
had succeeded the boisterous storm of the pre- 
vious night. The creek was swollen and turbid 
with the rains ; and as La Bonte proceeded a little 
distance down the bank to find a passage to the 
water, he suddenly stopped short, and an involun- 
tary cry escaped him. Within a few feet of the 
bank lay the body of one of his companions, who 
had formed the guard at the time of the Indians' 
attack. It was lying on the face, pierced through 
the chest with an arrow which was buried to the 
very feathers, and the scalp torn from the bloody 
skull. Beyond, but all within a hundred yards, 
lay the three others, dead, and similarly mutilated. 
So certain had been the aim, and so close the 
enemy, that each had died without a struggle, and 
consequently had been unable to alarm the camp. 
La Bonte, with a glance at the bank, saw at once 
that the wily Indians had crept along the creek, 
the noise of the storm facilitating their approach 
undiscovered, and, crawling up the bank, had 
watched their opportunity to shoot simultaneously 
the four hunters on guard. 

Returning to Killbuck, he apprised him of the 
melancholy fate of their companions, and held a 
council of war as to their proceedings. The old 
hunter's mind was soon made up. " First," said 



52 IN THE OLD WEST 

be, " I get back my old mule ; sbe's carried me and 
my traps tbese twelve jears, and I ain't a-goin' to 
lose ber yet. Second, I feel like taking bair, and 
some Rapabos bas to go under for tbis nigbt's 
work. Tbird, we bave got to cacbe tbe beaver. 
Fourtb, we take tbe Injun trail, wbarever it 
leads." 

No more daring mountaineer tban La Bonte 
ever trapped a beaver, and no' counsel could bave 
more exactly tallied witb bis own inclination tban 
tbe law laid down by old Killbuck. 

" Agreed," was bis answer, and fortbwitb be set 
about forming a cacbe. In this instance tbey bad 
not sufficient time to construct a regular one, so 
tbey contented tbemselves witb securing tbeir 
packs of beaver in buffalo robes, and tying tbem 
in tbe forks of several cotton-woods, under wbicb 
tbe camp bad been made. Tbis done, tbey lit a 
fire, and cooked some buffalo-meat ; and, wbilst 
smoking a pipe, carefully cleaned tbeir rifles, and 
filled tbeir borns and poucbes witb good store of 
ammunition. 

A prominent feature in tbe character of tbe 
bunters of tbe Far West is tbeir quick determina- 
tion and resolve in cases of extreme difficulty and 
peril, and tbeir fixedness of purpose, wben any 
plan of operations bas been laid requiring bold 
and instant action in carrying out. It is bere 
tbat tbey so infinitely surpass tbe savage Indian 
in bringing to a successful issue tbeir numerous 



IN THE OLD WEST 63 

hostile expeditions against the natural foe of the 
white man in the wild and barbarous regions of 
the West. Ready to resolve as they are prompt 
to execute, and combining far greater dash and 
daring with equal subtlety and caution, they, 
possess great advantage over the vacillating In- 
dian, whose superstitious mind in a great degree 
paralyzes the physical energy of his active body; 
and who, by waiting for propitious signs and sea- 
sons before he undertakes an enterprise, often 
loses the opportunity by which his white and more 
civilized enemy knows so well how to profit. 

Killbuck and La Bonte were no exceptions to 
this characteristic rule ; and before the sun was" 
a hand's-breadth above the eastern horizon, the 
two hunters were running on the trail of the vic- 
torious Indians. Striking from the creek where 
the night attack w^as made, they crossed to another 
known as Kioway, running parallel to Bijou, a 
few hours' journey westward, and likewise head- 
ing in the divide. Following this to its forks, they 
struck into the upland prairies lying at the foot of 
the mountains ; and crossing to the numerous water- 
courses which feed the creek called Vermillion or 
Cherry, they pursued the trail over the mountain- 
spurs until it reached a fork of the Boiling Spring. 
Here the war-party had halted and held a consul- 
tation, for from this point the trail turned at a 
tangent to the westward, and entered the rugged 
gorges of the mountains. It was now evident to 



54? IN THE OLD WEST 

the two trappers that their destination was the 
Bayou Salade,* — a mountain valley which is a 
favorite resort of the buffalo in the winter sea- 
son, and which, and for this reason, is often fre- 
quented by the Yuta Indians as their wintering 
ground. That the Rapahos were on a war ex- 
pedition against the Yutas, there was little doubt ; 
and Killbuck, who knew every inch of the ground, 
saw at once, by the direction the trail had taken, 
that they were making for the Bayou in order to 
surprise their enemies, and, therefore, were not 
following the usual Indian trail up the canon of 
the Boiling Spring river. Having made up his 
mind to this, he at once struck across the broken 
ground lying at the foot of the mountains, steer- 
ing a course a little to the eastward of north, or 
almost in the direction whence he had come ; and 
then, pointing westward, about noon he crossed 
a mountain-chain, and descending into a ravine 
through which a little rivulet tumbled over its 
rocky bed, he at once proved the correctness of 
his judgment by striking the Indian trail, now 
quite fresh, as it wound through the canon along 
the bank of the stream. The route he had fol- 
lowed, impracticable to pack-animals, had saved 
at least half-a-day's journey, and brought them 
within a short distance of the object of their pur- 
suit; for, at the head of the gorge, a lofty bluff 
presenting itself, the hunters ascended to the sum- 
* The old name of South Park, Colorado. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 55 

mit, and, looking down, descried at their very 
feet the Indian camp, with their own stolen caval- 
lada feeding quietly round. 

*' Wagh ! " exclaimed both the hunters in a 
breath. " And thar's the old gal at that," 
chuckled Killbuck, as he recognized his old grizzled 
mule making good play at the rich buffalo grass 
with which these mountain valleys abound. 

" If we don't make a raise afore long, I wouldn't 
say so. Thar plans is plain to this child as beaver 
sign. They're after Yuta hair, as certain as this 
gun has got hind-sights ; but they am't a-goin' to 
pack them animals after 'em, and have crawled 
like rattlers along this bottom to cache 'em till 
they come back from the Bayou, — and maybe 
they'll leave half-a-dozen soldiers * with 'em." 

How right the wily trapper was in his con- 
jectures will be shortly proved. Meanwhile, with 
his companion, he descended the bluff, and push- 
ing his way into a thicket of dwarf pine and cedar, 
sat down on a log, and drew from an end of the 
blanket strapped on his shoulder, a portion of a 
buffalo's liver, which they both discussed, raw^ 
with infinite relish; eating in lieu of bread (an un- 
known luxury in these parts) sundry strips of 
dried fat. To have kindled a fire would have been 
dangerous, since it was not impossible that some 
of the Indians might leave their camp to hunt, 

* The young untried warriors of the Indians are thus 
called. 



56 IN THE OLD WEST 

when the smoke would at once have betrayed the 
presence of enemies. A light was struck, however, 
for their pipes; and after enjoying this true con- 
solation for some time, they laid a blanket on the 
ground, and, side by side, soon fell asleep. 

If Killbuck had been a prophet, or the most 
prescient of medicine-men, he could not have more 
exactly predicted the movements in the Indian 
camp. About three hours before sundown he rose 
and shook himself, which movement was sufficient 
to awaken his companion. Telling La Bonte to 
lie down again and rest, he gave him to understand 
that he was about to reconnoiter the enemy's 
camp ; and after carefully examining his rifle, and 
drawing his knife-belt a hole or two tighter, he 
proceeded on his dangerous errand. Ascending 
the same bluff whence he had first discovered the 
Indian camp, he glanced rapidly around, and made 
himself master of the features of the ground — 
choosing a ravine by which he might approach the 
camp more closely, and without danger of being 
discovered. This was soon effected; and in half 
an hour the trapper was lying on his belly on the 
summit of a pine-covered bluff which overlooked 
the Indians within easy rifle-shot, and so perfectly 
concealed by the low spreading branches of the 
cedar and arbor-vitge, that not a particle of his 
person could be detected ; unless, indeed, his sharp 
twinkling gray eye contrasted too strongly with 
the green boughs that covered the rest of his face. 



IN THE OLD WEST 57 

Moreover, there was no danger of their hitting up- 
on his trail, for he had been careful to pick his steps 
on the rock-covered ground, so that not a track 
of his moccasin was visible. Here he lay, still as 
a carcajou in wait for a deer, only now and then 
shaking the boughs as his body quivered with a 
suppressed chuckle, when any movement in the 
Indian camp caused him to laugh inwardly at his 
(if they had known it) unwelcome propinquity. 
He was not a little surprised, however, to discover 
that the party was much smaller than he had im- 
agined, counting only forty warriors ; and this 
assured him that the band had divided, one half 
taking the Yuta trail by the Boiling Spring, the 
other (the one before him) taking a longer cir- 
cuit in order to reach the Bayou, and make the 
attack on the Yutas, in a different direction. 

At this moment the Indians were in delibera- 
tion. Seated in a large circle round a very small 
fire,* the smoke from which ascended in a thin 
straight column, they each in turn puffed a huge 
cloud of smoke from three or four long cherry- 
stemmed pipes, which went the round of the 
party ; each warrior touching the ground with the 
heel of the pipe-bowl, and turning the stem up- 
wards and away from him as medicine to the Great 

* There is a great difference between an Indian's fire and 
a white's. The former places the ends of logs to burn 
gradually; the latter, the center, besides making such a 
bonfire that the Indians truly say, " The white makes a 
fire so hot that he cannot approach to warm himself by it." 



58 IN THE OLD WEST 

Spirit, before he himself inhaled the fragrant kin- 
nik-kinnik. The council, however, was not gen- 
eral, for only fifteen of the older warriors took 
part in it, the others sitting outside, and at some 
little distance from the circle. Behind each were 
his arms — bow and quiver, and shield — hang- 
ing from a spear stuck in the ground ; and a few 
guns in ornamented covers of buckskin were added 
to some of the equipments. 

Near the fire, and in the center of the inner 
circle, a spear was fixed upright in the ground, 
and on this dangled the four scalps of the trap- 
pers killed the preceding night ; and underneath 
them, affixed to the same spear, was the mystic 
medicine-bag, by which Killbuck knew that the 
band before him was under the command of the 
chief of the tribe. 

Towards the gi'im trophies on the spear, the 
warriors, who in turn addressed the council, fre- 
quently pointed — more than one, as he did so, 
making the gyratory motion of the right hand 
and arm which the Indians use in describing that 
they have gained an advantage by skill or cun- 
ning. Then pointing westward, the speaker would 
thrust out his arm, extending his fingers at the 
same time, and closing and reopening them re- 
peatedly — meaning, that although four scalps 
already ornamented the medicine pole, they were 
as nothing compared to the numerous trophies 
they would bring from the Salt Valley, where they 



IN THE OLD WEST 59 

expected to find their hereditary enemies the 
Yutas. " That now was not the time to count 
their coups " (for at this moment one of the war- 
riors rose from his seat, and, swelHng with pride, 
advanced towards the spear, pointing to one of 
the scalps, and then striking his open hand on 
his naked breast, jumped into the air, as if about 
to go through the ceremony) ; " that before many 
suns all their spears together would not hold the 
scalps they had taken; and that they would re- 
turn to their village, and spend a moon relating 
their achievements and counting coups." 

All this Killbuck learned, — thanks to his knowl- 
edge of the language of signs — a master of which, 
if even he have no ears or tongue, never fails to 
understand, and be understood by, any of the 
hundred tribes whose languages are perfectly dis- 
tinct and different. He learned, moreover, that 
at sundown the greater part of the band would 
resume the trail, in order to reach the Bayou by 
the earliest dawn; and also, that no more than 
four or five of the younger warriors would remain 
with the captured animals. Still the hunter re- 
mained in his position until the sun had disap- 
peared behind the ridge ; when, taking up their 
arms, and throwing their buffalo-robes on their 
shoulders, the war-party of Rapahos, one behind 
the other, with noiseless step and silent as the 
dumb, moved away from the camp. When the 
last dusky form had disappeared behind a point 



60 IN THE OLD WEST 

of rocks which shut in the northern end of the 
little valley or ravine, Killbuck withdrew his head 
from its screen, crawled backwards on his stomach 
from the edge of the bluff, and, rising from the 
ground, shook and stretched himself; then gave 
one cautious look around, and immediately pro- 
ceeded to rejoin his companion. 

*^ Lave (get up), boy," said Killbuck, as soon 
as he reached him. " Hyar's grainin' to do afore 
long — and sun's about down, I'm thinking." 

" Ready, old boss," answered La Bonte, giving 
himself a shake. " What's the sign like, and how 
many's the lodge? " 

" Fresh, and five, boy. How do you feel? " 

" Half froze for hair. Wagh ! " 

" We'll have moon to-night, and as soon as 
she gets up, we'll make 'em come." 

Killbuck then described to his companion what 
he had seen, and detailed his plan. This was 
simply to wait until the moon afforded sufficient 
light, then to approach the Indian camp and 
charge into it, '' lift " as much " hair " as they 
could, recover their animals, and start at once to 
the Bayou and join the friendly Yutas, warning 
them of the coming danger. The risk of falling 
in with either of the Rapaho bands was hardly 
considered ; to avoid this they trusted to their 
own foresight, and the legs of their mules, should 
they encounter them. 

Between sundown and the rising of the moon 



IN THE OLD WEST 61 

they had leisure to eat their supper, which, as 
before, consisted of raw buffalo-liver; after dis- 
cussing which, Killbuck pronounced himself " a 
heap " better, and ready for " huggin'." 

In the short interval of almost perfect darkness 
which preceded the moonlight, and taking advan- 
tage of one of the frequent squalls of wind which 
howl down the narrow gorges of the mountains, 
these two determined men, with footsteps noiseless 
as the panther's, crawled to the edge of the little 
plateau of some hundred yards square, where the 
five Indians in charge of the animals were seated 
round the fire, perfectly unconscious of the vicin- 
ity of danger. Several clumps of cedar-bushes 
dotted the small prairie, and amongst these the 
well-hobbled mules and horses were feeding. 
These animals, accustomed to the presence of 
whites, would not notice the two hunters as they 
crept from clump to clump nearer to the fire, and 
also served, even if the Indians should be on the 
watch, to conceal their movements from them. 

This the two men at once perceived; but old 
Killbuck knew that if he passed within sight or 
smell of his mule, he would be received with a 
whinny of recognition, which would at once alarm 
the enemy. He therefore first ascertained where 
his own animal was feeding, which luckily was at 
the farther side of the prairie, and would not in- 
terfere with his proceedings. 

Threading their way amongst the feeding mules, 



62 IN THE OLD WEST 

they approached a clump of bushes about forty 
yards from the spot where the unconscious savages 
were seated smoking round the fire ; and here they 
awaited, scarcely drawing breath the while, the 
moment when the moon rose above the mountain 
into the clear cold sky, and gave them light suffi- 
cient to make sure their work of bloody retribu- 
tion. Not a pulsation in the hearts of these stem 
determined men beat higher than its wont ; not the 
tremor of a nerve disturbed their frame. They 
stood with lips compressed and rifles ready, their 
pistols loosened in their belts, their scalp-knives 
handy to their grip. The lurid glow of the com- 
ing moon already shot into the sky above the 
ridge, which stood out in bold relief against the 
light; and the luminary herself just peered over 
the mountain, illuminating its pine-clad summit, 
and throwing her beams on an opposite peak, when 
Killbuck touched his companion's arm, and whis- 
pered, " Wait for the full light, boy." . 

At this moment, however, unseen by the trap- 
per, the old grizzled mule had gradually ap- 
proached, as she fed along the plateau ; and, when 
within a few paces of their retreat, a gleam of 
moonshine revealed to the animal the erect forms 
of the two whites. Suddenly she stood still and 
pricked her ears, and stretching out her neck and 
nose, snuffed the air. Well she knew her old 
master. 

Killbuck, with eyes fixed upon the Indians, was 



IN THE OLD WEST 63 

on the point of giving the signal of attack to his 
comrade, when the shrill whinny of his mule rever- 
berated through the gorge. The Indians jumped 
to their feet and seized their arms, when Killbuck, 
with a loud shout of " At 'em, boy ; give the nig- 
gers h — ! " rushed from his concealment, and with 
La Bonte by his side, yelling a fierce war-whoop, 
sprang upon the startled savages. 

Panic-struck with the suddenness of the attack, 
the Indians scarcely knew where to run, and for 
a moment stood huddled together like sheep. 
Down dropped Killbuck on his knee, and stretch- 
ing out his wiping-stick, planted it on the ground 
at the extreme length of his arm. As methodic- 
ally and as coolly as if about to aim at a deer, 
he raised his rifle to this rest and pulled the trig- 
ger. At the report an Indian fell forward on 
his face, at the same moment that La Bonte, with 
equal certainty of aim, and like effect, discharged 
his own rifle. 

The three surviving Indians, seeing that their 
assailants were but two, and knowing that their 
guns were empty, came on with loud yells. With 
the left hand grasping a bunch of arrows, and 
holding the bow already bent, and arrow fixed, 
they steadily advanced, bending low to the ground 
to get their objects between them and the light, 
and thus render their aim more certain. The 
trappers, however, did not care to wait for them. 
Drawing their pistols, they charged at once ; and 



64 IN THE OLD WEST 

altKougli the bows twanged, and the three arrows 
struck their mark, on they rushed, discharging 
their pistols at close quarters. La Bonte threw 
his empty one at the head of an Indian who was 
pulling his second arrow to its head at a yard's 
distance, drew his knife at the same moment, and 
made at him. 

But the Indian broke and ran, followed by his 
surviring companion; and as soon as Killbuck 
could ram home another ball, he sent a shot fly- 
ing after them as they scrambled up the moun- 
tain-side, leaving in their fright and hurry their 
bows and shields on the ground. 

The fight was over, and the two trappers con- 
fronted each other : " We've given 'em h — ! " 
laughed Killbuck. 

" Well^ we have," answered the other, pulling 
an arrow out of his arm. " Wagh ! " 

" We'll lift the hair, anyhow," continued the 
first, " afone the scalp's cold." 

Taking his whetstone from the little sheath on 
his knife-belt, the trapper proceeded to " edge " 
his knife, and then stepping to the first prostrate 
body, he turned it over to examine if any symp- 
tom of vitality remained. " Thrown cold ! " he 
exclaimed, as he dropped the lifeless arm he had 
lifted. " I sighted him about the long ribs, but 
the light was bad, and I couldn't get a bead off- 
hand anyhow." 

Seizing with his left hand the long and braided 



IN THE OLD WEST 65 

lock on the center of the Indian's head, he passed 
the point edge of his keen butcher-knife round the 
parting, turning it at the same time under the 
skin to separate the scalp from the skull; then 
with a quick and sudden jerk of his hand, he re- 
moved it entirely from the head, and giving the 
reeking trophy a wring upon the grass to free it 
from the blood, he coolly hitched it under his belt, 
and proceeded to the next; but seeing La Bonte 
operating upon this, he sought the third, who lay 
some little distance from the others. This one 
was still alive, a pistol-ball having passed through 
his body without touching a vital spot. 

" Gut-shot is this nigger," exclaimed the trap- 
per ; " them pistols never throws 'em in their 
tracks ; " and thrusting his knife, for mercy's 
sake, into the bosom of the Indian, he likewise 
tore the scalp-lock > from his head, and placed it 
with the other. 

La Bonte had received two trivial wounds, and 
Killbuck till now had been walking about with 
an arrow sticking through the fleshy part of liis 
thigh, the point being perceptible near the sur- 
face of the other side. To free his leg from the 
painful encumbrance, he thrust the weapon com- 
pletely through, and then, cutting off the arrow- 
head below the barb, he drew it out, the blood 
flowing freely from the wound. A tourniquet of 
buckskin soon stopped this, and, heedless of the 
pain, the hardy mountaineer sought for his old 



ee IN THE OLD WEST 

mule, and quickly brought it to the fire (which 
La Bonte had rekindled), lavishing many a caress, 
and most comical terms of endearment, upon the 
faithful companion of his wanderings. They 
found all the animals safe and well; and after 
eating heartily of some venison which the Indians 
had been cooking at the moment of the attack, 
made instant preparations to quit the scene of 
their exploit, not wishing to trust to the chance 
of the Rapahos being too frightened to again 
molest them. 

Having no saddles, they secured buffalo-robes 
on the backs of two mules — Killbuck, of course, 
riding his own — and lost no time in proceeding 
on their way. They followed the course of the 
Indians up the stream, and found that it kept 
the canons and gorges of the mountains, where 
the road was better ; but it was with no little diffi- 
culty that they made their way, the ground be- 
ing much broken, and covered with rocks. Kill- 
buck's wound became very painful, and his leg 
stiffened and swelled distressingly, but he still 
pushed on all night, and at daybreak, recognizing 
their position, he left the Indian trail, and fol- 
lowed a little creek which rose in a mountain- 
chain of moderate elevation, and above which, 
and to the south, Pike's Peak towered high into 
the clouds. With great difficulty they crossed 
this ridge, and ascending and descending several 
smaller ones, which gradually smoothed away as 



IN THE OLD WEST 67 

they met the valley, about three hours after sun- 
rise they found themselves in the south-east cor- 
ner of the Bayou Salade. 

The Bayou Salade, or Salt Valley, is the most 
southern of three very extensive valleys, form- 
ing a series of tablelands in the very center of 
the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, known 
to the trappers by the name of the " Parks." 
The numerous streams by which they are watered 
abound in the valuable fur-bearing beaver, whilst 
every species of game common to the West is 
found here in great abundance. The Bayou 
Salade especially, owing to the salitrose nature 
of the soil and springs, is the favorite resort of 
all the larger animals common to the mountains ; 
and in the sheltered prairies of the Bayou, the 
buffalo, forsaking the barren and inclement re- 
gions of the exposed plains, frequent these upland 
valleys in the winter months ; and feeding upon 
the rich and nutritious buffalo grass, which on 
the bare prairies at that season is either dry 
and rotten or entirely exhausted, not only sus- 
tain life, but retain a great portion of the " con- 
dition " that the abundant fall and summer pas- 
ture of the lowlands has laid upon their bones. 
Therefore is this valley sought by the Indians 
as a wintering-ground. Its occupancy has been 
disputed by most of the mountain tribes, and 
long and bloody wars have been waged to make 
good the claims set forth by Yuta, Rapaho, 



68 IN THE OLD WEST 

Sioux, and Shians.* However, to the first of 
these it may be said now to belong, since their 
" big village " has wintered there for many suc- 
cessive years ; whilst the Rapahos seldom visit it 
unless on war expeditions against the Yutas. 

Judging, from the direction the Rapahos were 
taking, that the friendly tribe of Yutas were there 
already, the trappers had resolved to join them 
as soon as possible ; and therefore, without rest- 
ing, pushed on through the uplands, and, towards 
the middle of the day, had the satisfaction of 
descrying the conical lodges of the village, situ- 
ated on a large level plateau, through which ran 
a mountain stream. A numerous band of mules 
and horses were scattered over the pasture, and 
round them several mounted Indians kept guard. 
As the trappers descended the bluffs into the 
plain, some straggling Indians caught sight of 
them; and instantly one of them, lassoing a horse 
from the herd, mounted it, barebacked, and flew 
like wind to the village to spread the news. Soon 
the lodges disgorged their inmates ; first the women 
and children rushed to the side of the strangers' 
approach; then the younger Indians, unable to 
restrain their curiosity, mounted their horses, and 
galloped forth to meet them. The old chiefs, 
enveloped in buffalo-robes (softly and delicately 
dressed as the Yutas alone know how), and with 
tomahawk held in one hand and resting in the 

* Utahs, Arapahoes, Sioux, and Cheyennes. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 69 

hollow of the other arm, sallied last of all from 
their lodges ; and, squatting in a row on a sunny 
bank outside the village, awaited, with dignified 
composure, the arrival of the whites. Killbuck 
was well known to most of them, having trapped 
in their country and traded with them years be- 
fore at Roubideau's fort at the head waters of 
the Rio Grande. After shaking hands with all 
who presented themselves, he at once gave them to 
understand that their enemies, the Rapahos, were 
at hand, with a hundred warriors at least, elated 
by the coup they had just stiTick against the 
whites, bringing, moreover, four white scalps to 
incite them to brave deeds. 

At this news the whole village was speedily in 
commotion: the war-shout was taken up from 
lodge to lodge; the squaws began to lament and 
tear their hair; the warriors to paint and arm 
themselves. The elder chiefs immediately met in 
council, and, over the medicine-pipe, debated as to 
the best course to pursue — whether to wait the 
attack, or sally out and meet the enemy. In the 
meantime, the braves were collected together by 
the chiefs of their respective bands ; and scouts, 
mounted on the fastest horses, despatched in every 
direction to procure intelligence of the enemy. 

The two whites, after watering their mules and 
picketing them in some good grass near the vil- 
lage, drew near the council fire, without, however, 
joining in the " talk," until they were imdted to 



70 IN THE OLD WEST 

take their seats by the eldest cliief. Then Kill- 
buck was called upon to give his opinion as to the 
direction in which he judged the Rapahos to be 
approacliing, which he delivered in their own 
language, with which he was well acquainted. In 
a short time the council broke up ; and without 
noise or confusion, a band of one hundred chosen 
warriors left the village, immediately after one 
of the scouts had galloped in and communicated 
some intelligence to the chiefs. Killbuck and La 
Bonte volunteered to accompany the war-party, 
weak and exhausted as they were; but this was 
negatived by the chiefs, who left their white 
brothers to the care of the women, who tended 
their wounds, now stiff and painful; and spread- 
ing their buffalo-robes in a warm and roomy lodge, 
left them to the repose they so much needed. 



CHAPTER II 

THE next morning Killbuck's leg was 
greatly inflamed, and he was unable to 
leave the lodge; but he made his compan- 
ion bring the old mule to the door, that he might 
give her a couple of ears of Indian corn, the last 
remains of the slender store brought by the In- 
dians from the Navajo country. The day passed, 
and sundown brought no tidings of the war-party. 
This caused no little wailing on the part of the. 
squaws, but was interpreted by the whites as a 
favorable augury. A little after sunrise on the 
second morning, the long line of the returning 
warriors was discerned winding over the prairie, 
and a scout having galloped in to bring the news 
of a great victory, the whole village was soon in 
a ferment of paint and drumming. A short dis- 
tance from the lodges, the warriors halted to await 
the approach of the people. Old men, children, 
and squaws sitting astride their horses, sallied 
out to escort the victorious party in triumph to 
the village. With loud shouts and songs, and 
drums beating the monotonous Indian time, they 
advanced and encircled the returning braves, one 
of whom, his face covered with black paint, car- 

71 



72 IN THE OLD WEST 

ried a pole on which dangled thirteen scalps, the 
trophies of the expedition. As he lifted these on 
high they were saluted with deafening whoops, 
and cries of exultation and savage joy. In this 
manner they entered the village, almost before 
the friends of those fallen in the fight had ascer- 
tained their losses. Then the shouts of delight 
were converted into yells of grief ; the mothers and 
wives of those braves who had been killed (and 
seven had " gone under ") presently returned with 
their faces, necks, and hands blackened, and 
danced and howled round the scalp-pole, which 
had been deposited in the center of the village, in 
front of the lodge of the great chief. 

Killbuck now learned that a scout having 
brought intelligence that the two bands of Rapa- 
hos were hastening to form a junction, as soon as 
they learned that their approach was discovered, 
the Yutas had successfully prevented it; and at- 
tacking one party, had entirely defeated it, kill- 
ing thirteen of the Rapaho braves. The other 
party had fled on seeing the issue of the fight, and 
a few of the Yuta warriors were now pursuing 
them. 

To celebrate so signal a victory, great prepara- 
tions s-ounded their notes through the village. 
Paints — vermilion and ochres, red and yellow — 
were in great request; whilst the scrapings of 
charred wood, mixed with gunpowder, were used 
as substitute for black, the medicine color. 



IN THE OLD WEST 73 

The lodges of the village, numbering some two 
hundred or more, were erected in parallel lines, 
and covered a large space of the level prairie in 
shape of a parallelogram. In the center, how- 
ever, the space which half-a-dozen lodges in length 
would have taken up was left unoccupied, save by 
one large one, of red-painted bufFalo-skins, tat- 
tooed with the mystic totems of the medicine 
peculiar to the nation. In front of this stood the 
grim scalp-pole, like a decayed tree-trunk, its 
bloody fruit tossing in the wind; and on another 
pole, at a few feet distance, was hung the bag 
with its mysterious contents. Before each lodge 
a tripod of spears supported the arms and shields 
of the Yuta chivalry, and on many of them smoke- 
dried scalps rattled in the wind, foinner trophies 
of the dusky knights who were arming themselves 
within. Heraldic devices were not wanting — 
not, however, graved upon the shield, but hang- 
ing from the spear-head, the actual totem of the 
warrior it distinguished. The rattlesnake, the 
otter, the carcajou, the mountain badger, the 
war-eagle, the konqua-kish, the porcupine, the fox, 
&c., dangled their well-stufFed skins, displaying 
the guardian medicine of the warriors they per- 
tained to, and representing the mental and cor- 
poreal qualities which were supposed to character- 
ize the braves to whom they belonged. 

From the center lodge, two or three medicine- 
men, fantastically attired in the skins of wolves 



74. IN THE OLD WEST 

and bears, and bearing long peeled wands of 
cherry in their hands, occasionally emerged to tend 
a very small fire which they had kindled in the 
center of the open space ; and when a thin column 
of smoke arose, one of them planted the scalp- 
pole obliquely across the fire. Squaws in robes 
of white dressed buckskin, garnished with beads 
and porcupines' quills, and their faces painted 
bright red and black, then appeared. These 
ranged themselves round the outside of the square, 
the boys and children of all ages, mounted o-n 
barebacked horses, galloping round and round, 
and screaming with eagerness, excitement, and 
curiosity. 

Presently the braves and warriors made their 
appearance, and squatted round the fire in two 
circles, those who had been engaged on the ex- 
pedition being in the first or smaller one. One 
medicine-man sat under the scalp-pole, having a 
drum between his knees-, which he tapped at inter- 
vals with his hand, eliciting from the instrument 
a hollow monotonous sound. A bevy of women, 
shoulder to shoulder, then advanced from the four 
sides of the square, and some, shaking a rattle- 
drum in time with their steps, commenced a jump- 
ing, jerking dance, now lifting one foot from the 
ground, and now rising with both, accompanying 
the dance with a chant, which swelled from a low 
whisper to the utmost extent of their voices — 
now dying away, and again bursting into vocifer- 



IN THE OLD WEST 75 

ous measure. Thus they advanced to the center 
and retreated to their former positions ; when six 
squaws, with their faces painted a dead black, 
made their appearance from the crowd, chanting, 
in soft and sweet measure, a lament for the braves 
the nation had lost in the late battle: but soon as 
they drew near the scalp-pole, their melancholy 
note changed to the music (to them) of gratified 
revenge. In a succession of jumps, raising the 
feet alternately but a little distance from the 
ground, they made their way, through an interval 
left in the circle of warriors, to the grim pole, and 
encircling it, danced in perfect silence round it 
for a few moments. Then they burst forth with 
an extempore song, laudatory of the achievements 
of their victorious braves. They addressed the 
scalps as " sisters " (to be called a squaw is the 
greatest insult that can be offered to an Indian), 
and, spitting at them, upbraided them with their 
rashness in leaving their lodges to seek for Yuta 
husbands ; " that the Yuta warriors and young 
men despised them, and chastised them for their 
forwardness and presumption, bringing back their 
scalps to their own women." 

After sufficiently proving that they had any- 
thing but lost the use of their tongues, but pos- 
sessed, on the contrary, as fair a length of that 
formidable weapon as any of their sex, they with- 
drew, and left the field in undisputed possession 
of the men; who, accompanied by tap of drum, 



76 IN THE OLD WEST 

and by the noise of many rattles, broke out into 
a war-song, in which their own valor was by no 
means hidden in a bushel, or modestly refused the 
light of day. After this came the more interest- 
ing ceremony of a warrior " counting his coups." 
A young brave, with his face painted black, 
mounted on a white horse mysteriously marked 
with red clay, and naked to the breech-clout, hold- 
ing in his hand a long taper lance, rode into the 
circle, and paced slowly round it ; then, flourish- 
ing his spear on high, he darted to the scalp-pole, 
round which the warriors were now seated in a 
semicircle ; and in a loud voice, and with furious 
gesticulations, related his exploits, the drums tap- 
ping at the conclusion of each. On his spear 
hung seven scalps, and holding it vertically above 
his head, and commencing with the top one, he 
told the feats in which he had raised the trophy 
hair. When he had run through these the drums 
tapped loudly, and several of the old chiefs shook 
their rattles, in corroboration of the truth of his 
achievements. The brave, swelling with pride, 
then pointed to the fresh and bloody scalps hang- 
ing on the pole. TWo of these had been torn from 
the heads of Rapahos struck by his own hand, and 
this feat, the exploit of the day, had entitled him 
to the honor of counting his coups. Then, stick- 
ing his spear into the ground by the side of the 
pole, he struck his hand twice on his brawny and 
naked chest, turned short round, and, swift as 



IN THE OLD WEST 77 

the antelope, galloped into the plain, as if over- 
come by the shock his modesty had receiA^ed in be- 
ing obliged to recount his own high-sounding 
deeds. 

" Wagh ! " exclaimed old Killbuck, as he left 
the circle, pointing his pipe-stem towards the fast- 
fading figure of the brave, " that Injun's heart's 
about as big as ever it will be, I'm thinking." 

With the Yutas, Killbuck and La Bonte re- 
mained during the winter; and when the spring 
sun had opened the icebound creeks, and melted 
the snow on the mountains, and its genial warmth 
had expanded the earth and permitted the roots 
of the grass to " live " once more, and throw out 
green and tender shoots, the two trappers bade 
adieu to the hospitable Indians, who broke up their 
village in order to start for the valleys of the Del 
Norte. As they followed the trail from the 
Bayou, at sundown, just as they thought of camp- 
ing, they observed ahead of them a solitary horse- 
man * riding along, followed by three mules. His 
hunting-frock of fringed buckskin, and the rifle 
resting across the horn of his saddle, at once pro- 
claimed him white ; but as he saw the mountaineers 
winding through the canon, driving before them 
half-a-dozen horses, he judged they might possibly 
be Indians and enemies, the more so as their dress 
was not the usual costume of the whites. The 
trappers, therefore, saw the stranger raise the rifle 

* Evidently Ruxton himself. (Ed.) 



78 IN THE OLD WEST 

in the hollow of his arm, and gathering up his 
horse, ride steadily to meet them, as soon as he 
observed they were but two ; two to one in moun- 
tain calculation being scarcely considered odds, 
if red skin to white. 

However, on nearing them, the stranger dis- 
covered his mistake, and throwing his rifle across 
the saddle once more reined in his horse and waited 
their approach; for the spot where he then stood 
presented an excellent camping-ground, with abun- 
dance of dry wood and convenient water. 

" Where from, stranger ? " 

" The divide, and to the Bayou for meat ; and 
you are from there, I see. Any buffalo come in 
yet?" 

" Heap, and seal-fat at that. What's the sign 
out on the plains ? " 

"War-party of Rapahos passed Squirrel at 
sundown yesterday, and nearly raised my animals. 
Sign, too, of more on left fork of Boiling Spring. 
No buffalo between this and Bijou. Do you feel 
like camping? " 

" Well, we do. But whar's your campan- 
yeros? " 

" Pm alone." 

" Alone? Wagh! how do you get your animals 
along? " 

" I go ahead, and they follow the horse." 

" Well, that beats all ! That's a smart-looking 
hoss, now; and inins some, I'm thinking." 



IN THE OLD WEST 79 

" Well, it does." 

" Whar's them mules from ? They look like 
Californy." 

" Mexican country — away down south." 

" H— ! Whar's yourself from.? " 

" There away, too." 

" What's beaver worth in Taos ? " 

" Dollar." 

"In Saint Louiy?" 

" Same." 

" H— ! Any call for buckskin? " 

" A heap ! The soldiers in Santa Fe are half 
froze for leather ; and moccasins fetch two dollars 
easy." 

" Wagh ! How's trade on Arkansa, and what's 
doin' to the Fort?" 

" Shians at Big Timber, and Bent's people trad- 
ing smart. On North Fork, Jim Waters got a 
hundred pack right off, and Sioux making more." 

"Whar's Bill Williams?" 

" Gone under, they say : the Diggers took his 
hair." 

" How's powder goin' ? " 

" Two dollars a pint." 

"Bacca?" 

" A plew a plug." 

" Got any about you? " 

" Have 50." 

" Give us a chaw ; and now let's camp." 

Whilst unpacking their own animals, the two 



80 IN THE OLD WEST 

trappers could not refrain from glancing, every 
now and then, with no little astonishment, at the 
solitary stranger they had so unexpectedly en- 
countered. If truth be told, his appearance not 
a little perplexed them. His hunting-frock of 
buckskin, shining with grease, and fringed panta- 
loons, over which the well-greased butcher-knife 
had evidently been often wiped after cutting his 
food or butchering the carcass of deer and buffalo, 
were of genuine mountain-make. His face, clean 
shaved, exhibited, in its well-tanned and weather- 
beaten complexion, the effects of such natural cos- 
metics as sun and wind; and under the mountain- 
hat of felt which covered his head, long uncut hair 
hung in Indian fashion on his shoulders. All this 
would have passed muster, had it not been for the 
most extraordinary equipment of a double-bar- 
reled rifle, which, when it had attracted the eyes 
of the mountaineers, elicited no little astonish- 
ment, not to say derision. But perhaps nothing 
excited their admiration so much as the perfect 
docility of the stranger's animals, which, almost 
like dogs, obeyed his voice and call; and albeit 
that one, in a small sharp head and pointed ears, 
expanded nostrils, and eye twinkling and mali- 
cious, exhibited the personification of a lurking 
devil, yet they could not but admire the perfect 
ease with which even this one, in common with 
the rest, permitted herself to be handled. 

Dismounting, and unhitching from the horn of 



IN THE OLD WEST 81 

his saddle the coil of skin rope, one end of which 
was secured round the neck of the horse, he pro- 
ceeded to unsaddle; and whilst so engaged, the 
three mules, two of which were packed, one with 
the unbutchered carcass of a deer, the other with 
a pack of skins, &c., followed leisurely into the 
space chosen for the camp, and, cropping the 
grass at their ease, waited until a whistle called 
them to be unpacked. 

The horse was a strong square-built bay; and 
although the severities of a prolonged winter, with 
scanty pasture and long and trying travel, had 
robbed his bones of fat and flesh, tucked up his 
flank, and " ewed " his neck, still his clean and 
well-set legs, oblique shoulder, and withers fine as 
a deer's, in spite of his gaunt half -starved appear- 
ance, bore ample testimony as to what he had 
been ; while his clear cheerful eye, and the hearty 
appetite with which he fell to work on the coarse 
grass of the bottom, proved that he had something 
in him still, and was game as ever. His tail, 
gnawed by the mules in days of strait, attracted 
the observant mountaineers. 

" Hard doin's when it come to that," remarked 
La Bonte. 

Between the horse and two of the mules a mu- 
tual and great aff^ection appeared to subsist, 
which was no more than natural, when their mas- 
ter observed to his companions that they had 
traveled together upwards of two thousand miles. 



8£ IN THE OLD WEST 

One of these mules was a short, thick-set, 
stumpy animal, with an enormous head surmounted 
by proportionable ears, and a pair of unusually 
large eyes, beaming the most perfect good temper 
and docility (most uncommon qualities in a mule). 
Her neck was thick, and rendered more so in ap- 
pearance by reason of her mane not being roached 
(or, in English, hogged), which privilege she alone, 
enjoyed of the trio; and her short strong legs, 
ending in small, round, cat-like hoofs, were feath- 
ered with a profusion of dark-brown hair. 

As she stood stock-still whilst the stranger re- 
moved the awkwardly packed deer from her back, 
she flapped her huge ears backward and forward, 
occasionally turning her head, and laying her cold 
nose against her master's cheek. When the pack 
was removed he advanced to her head, and rest- 
ing it on his shoulder, rubbed her broad and griz- 
zled cheeks with both his hands for several min- 
utes, the old mule laying her ears, like a rab- 
bit, back upon her neck, and with half-closed eyes 
enjoyed mightily the manipulation. Then, giv- 
ing her a smack upon the haunch, and a " hep-a " 
well known to the mule kind, the old favorite threw 
up her heels and cantered off to the horse, who 
was busily cropping the buffalo grass on the bluff 
above the stream. 

Great was the contrast between the one just 
described and the next which came up to be di- 
vested of her pack. She, a tall beautifully-shaped 



IN THE OLD WEST 83 

Mexican mule, of a light mouse color, with a head 
like a deer's, and long springy legs, trotted up 
obedient to the call, but with ears bent back and 
curled-up nose, and tail compressed between her 
legs. As her pack was being removed, she groaned 
and whined like a dog as a thong or loosened strap 
touched her ticklish body, lifting her hind quar- 
ters in a succession of jumps or preparatory kicks, 
and looked wicked as a panther. When nothing 
but the fore pack-saddle remained, she had worked 
herself into the last stage; and as the stranger 
cast loose the girth of buffalo-hide, and was about 
to lift the saddle and draw the crupper from the 
tail, she drew her hind legs under her, more tightly 
compressed her tail, and almost shrieked with rage. 

" Stand clear," he roared (knowing what was 
coming), and raised the saddle, when out went her 
hind legs, up went the pack into the air, and, with 
it dangling at her heels, away she tore, kicking 
the offending saddle as she ran. Her master, 
however, took this as matter of course, followed 
her and brought back the saddle, which he piled 
on the others to windward of the fire one of the 
trappers was kindling. Fire-making is a simple 
process with the mountaineers. Their bullet- 
pouches always contain a flint and steel, and sun- 
dry pieces of "punk"* or tinder; and pulling 
a handful of dry grass, which they screw into a 
nest, they place the lighted punk in this, and, 

* A pithy substance found in dead trees. 



84* IN THE OLD WEST 

closing the grass over it, wave it in the air, when 
it soon ignites, and readily kindles the dry sticks 
forming the foundation of the fire. 

The tidbits of the deer the stranger had brought 
in were soon roasting over the fire ; whilst, as soon 
as the burning logs had deposited a sufficiency of 
ashes, a hole was raked in them, and the head of 
the deer, skin, hair, and all, placed in this primi- 
tive oven, and carefully covered with the hot ashes. 

A " heap " of fat meat in perspective, our moun- 
taineers enjoyed their anteprandial pipes, recount- 
ing the news of the respective regions whence they 
came; and so well did they like each other's com- 
pany, so sweet was the honeydew tobacco of which 
the strange hunter had good store, so plentiful 
the game about the creek, and so abundant the 
pasture for their winter-starved animals, that be- 
fore the carcass of the two-year buck had been 
more than four-fifths consumed — and although 
rib after rib had been picked and chucked over 
their shoulders to the wolves, and one fore leg 
and the " bit " of all, the head, were still cooked 
before them — the three had come to the resolu- 
tion to join company, and hunt in their present 
locality for a few days at least — the owner of 
the " two-shoot " gun volunteering to fill their 
horns with powder, and find tobacco for their 
pipes. 

Here, on plenty of meat, of venison, bear, and 
antelope, they merrily luxuriated; returning after 



IN THE OLD WEST 85 

their daily hunts to the brightly-burning camp- 
fire, where one always remained to guard the ani- 
mals, and unloading their packs of meat (all choic- 
est portions), ate late into the night, and, smok- 
ing, wiled away the time in narrating scenes in 
their hard-spent lives, and fighting their battles 
o'er again. 

The younger of the trappers, he who has fig- 
ured under the name of La Bonte, had excited, by 
scraps and patches from his history, no little curi- 
osity in the stranger's mind to learn the ups and 
downs of his career ; and one night, when they as- 
sembled earlier than usual at the fire, he pre- 
vailed upon the modest trapper to " unpack " 
some passages in his wild adventurous life. 

" Maybe," commenced the mountaineer, " you 
both remember when old Ashley went out with the 
biggest kind of band to trap the Columbia and 
head-waters of Missoura and Yellow Stone. Well, 
that was the time this nigger first felt like taking 
to the mountains." 

This brings us back to the year of our Lord 
1825 ; and perhaps it will be as well, in order to 
render La Bonte's mountain language intelligible, 
to translate it at once into tolerable English, and 
to tell in the third person, but from his own lips, 
the scrapes which befell him in a sojourn of more 
than twenty years in the Far West, and the causes 
that impelled him to quit the comfort and civili- 
zation of his home, to seek the perilous but en- 



86 IN THE OLD WEST 

gSLging life of a trapper of the Rocky Moun- 
tains. 

La Bonte * was raised in the state of Mississippi, 
not far from Memphis, on the left bank of that 
huge and snag-filled river. His father was a Saint 
Louis Frenchman, his mother a native of Tennes- 
see. When a boy, our trapper was " some," he 
said, with the rifle, and always had a hankering 
for the West; particularly when, on accompany- 
ing his father to Saint Louis every spring, he saw 
the different bands of traders and hunters start 
upon their annual expeditions to the mountains. 
Greatly did he envy the independent insouciant 
trappers, as, in all the glory of beads and buck- 
skin, they shouldered their rifles at Jake Hawk- 
en's door (the rifle-maker of Saint Louis), and 
bade adieu to the cares and trammels of civilized 
life. 

However, li*ke a thoughtless beaver-kitten, he 
put his foot into a trap one fine day, set by Mary 
Brandjf a neighbor's daughter, and esteemed 
" some punkins " — or, in other words, toasted 
as the beauty of the county — by the suscep- 
tible Mississippians. From that moment he was 
" gone beaver ; " " he felt queer," he said, " all 
over, like a buffalo shot in the lights ; he had no 

* The name of this trapper is perpetuated in La Bont6 
Creek, M'hich enters the Platte River 66 miles above the 
mouth of the Laramie, on the old Orep^on trail. (Ed.) 

tMary Chase. See introduction to this volume. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 87 

relish for mush and molasses; hominy and johnny- 
cakes failed to excite his appetite. Deer and tur- 
keys ran by him unscathed ; he didn't know, he 
said, whether his rifle had hind-sights or not. He 
felt bad, that was a fact; but what ailed him he 
didn't know." 

Mary Brand — Mary Brand — Mary Brand! 
the old Dutch clock ticked it. Mary Brand! his 
head throbbed it when he lay down to sleep. 
Mary Brand! his riflelock spoke it plainly when 
he cocked it, to raise a shaking sight at a deer. 
Mary Brand, Mary Brand! the whip-poor-will 
sang it instead of her own w^ell-known note; the 
bull-frogs croaked it in the swamp, and mosquitoes 
droned it in his ear as he tossed about his bed 
at night, wakeful, and striving to think what 
ailed him. 

Who could that strapping young fellow who 
passed the door just now be going to see? Mary 
Brand : Mary Brand. And who can big Pete Her- 
ring be dressing that silver-fox skin so carefully 
for? For whom but Mary Brand? And who is 
it that jokes and laughs and dances with all the 
*' boys " but him ; and why ? 

Who but Mary Brand: and because the love- 
sick booby carefully avoids her. 

'' And Mary Brand herself — what is she like? " 

*' She's some now ; that is a fact, and the big- 
gest kind of punkin at that," would have been the 
answer from any man, woman, or child in the 



88 IN THE OLD WEST 

county, and truly spoken too ; always understand- 
ing that the pumpkin is the fruit by which the 
ne plus ultra of female perfection is expressed 
amongst the figuratively-speaking westerns. 

Being an American woman, of course she was 
tall, and straight and slim as a hickory sapling, 
well formed withal, with rounded bust, and neck 
white and slender as the swan's. Her features 
were small, but finely chiselled: and in this, it may 
be remarked, the lower orders of the American 
woman differ from and far surpass the same class 
in England, or elsewhere, where the features, al- 
though far prettier, are more vulgar and common- 
place. Mary Brand had the bright blue eye, thin 
nose, and small but sweetly-formed mouth, the 
too fair complexion and dark-brown hair, which 
characterize the beauty of the Anglo-American, 
the heavy masses (hardly curls) that fell over 
her face and neck contrasting with her polished 
whiteness. Such was Mary Brand; and when to 
her good looks are added a sweet disposition and 
all the best qualities of a thrifty housewife, it 
must be allowed that she fully justified the eulo- 
giums of the good people of Memphis. 

Well, to cut a love-story short, in doing which 
not a little moral courage is shown, young La 
Bonte fell desperately in love with the pretty 
Mary, and she with him; and small blame to her, 
for he was a proper lad of twenty — six feet in 
his moccasins — the best hunter and rifle-shot in 



IN THE OLD WEST 89 

the country, with many other advantages too 
numerous to mention. But when did the course, 
&c., e'er run smooth? When the affair had be- 
come a recognized " courting " (and Americans 
alone know the horrors of such prolonged pur- 
gatory), they became, to use La Bonte's words, 
" awful fond," and consequently about once a- 
week had their tiffs and make-ups. 

However, on one occasion, at a husking, and 
during one of these tiffs, Mary, every inch a 
woman, to gratify some indescribable feeling, 
brought to her aid jealousy — that old serpent 
who has caused such mischief in this world; and 
by a flirtation over the corn-cobs with big Pete, 
La Bonte's former and only rival, struck so hard 
a blow at the latter's heart, that on the moment 
his brain caught fire, blood danced before his eyes, 
and he became like one possessed. Pete observed 
and enjoyed his struggling emotion — better for 
him had he minded his corn-shelling alone ; — and 
the more to annoy his rival, paid the most sedulous 
attention to pretty Mary. 

Young La Bonte stood it as long as human 
nature, at boiling heat, could endure 4 but when 
Pete, in the exultation of his apparent triumph, 
crowned his success by encircling the slender waist 
of the girl with his arm, and snatching a sudden 
kiss, he jumped upright from his seat, and seiz- 
ing a small whiskey-keg which stood in the center 
of the com-shellers, he hurled it at his rival, and 



90 IN THE OLD WEST 

crying to him, hoarse with passion, " to follow 
if he was a man," he left the house. 

At that time, and even now, in the remoter 
States of the western country, rifles settled even 
the most trivial differences between the hot-blooded 
youths ; and of such frequent occurrence and in- 
variably bloody termination did these encounters 
become, that they scarcely produced sufficient ex- 
citement to draw together half-a-dozen spectators. 

In the present case, however, so public was the 
quarrel and so well known the parties concerned, 
that not only the people who had witnessed the 
affair, but all the neighborhood, thronged to the 
scene of action, in a large field in front of the 
house, where the preliminaries of a duel between 
Pete and La Bonte were being arranged by their 
respective friends. 

Mary, when she discovered the mischief her 
thoughtlessness was likely to occasion, was almost 
beside herself with grief, but she knew how vain it 
would be to attempt to interfere. The poor girl, 
who was most ardently attached to La Bonte, was 
carried swooning into the house, where all the 
women congregated, and were locked in by old 
Brand, who, himself an old pioneer, thought but 
little of bloodshed, but refused to let the women 
folk witness the affray. 

Preliminaries arranged, the combatants took up 
their respective positions at either end of a space 
marked for the purpose, at forty paces from each 



IN THE OLD WEST 91 

other. They were both armed with heavy rifles, 
and had the usual hunting pouches, containing 
ammunition, hanging over the shoulder. Stand- 
ing with the butts of their rifles on the ground, 
they confronted each other ; and the crowd, draw- 
ing away a few paces only on each side, left one 
man to give the word. This was the single word 
" fire ; " and after this signal was given, the com- 
batants were at liberty to fire away until one or 
the other dropped. 

At the word, both the men quickly raised their 
rifles to the shoulder; and whilst the sharp cracks 
instantaneously rang, they were seen to flinch, as 
either felt the pinging sensation of a bullet enter- 
ing his flesh. Regarding each other steadily for 
a few moments, the blood running down La Bonte's 
neck from a wound under the left jaw, whilst his 
opponent was seen to place his hand once to his 
right breast, as if to feel the position of his 
wound, they commenced reloading their rifles. 
But as Pete was in the act of forcing down the 
ball with his long hickory wiping-stick, he sud- 
denly dropped his right arm — the rifle slipped 
from his grasp — and, reeling for a moment like 
a drunken man, he fell dead to the ground. 

Even here, however, there was law of some kind 
or another ; and the consequences of the duel were, 
that the constables were soon on the trail of La 
Bonte to arrest him. He easily avoided them ; 
and, taking to the woods, lived for several days in 



92 IN THE OLD WEST 

as wild a state as the beasts he hunted and killed 
for his support. 

Tired of this, he at last resolved to quit the 
country and betake himself to the mountains, for 
which life he had ever felt an inclination. 

When, therefore, he thought the officers of jus- 
tice had grown slack in their search of him, and 
that the coast was comparatively clear, he deter- 
mined to start on his distant expedition to the 
Far West. 

Once more, before he carried his project into 
execution, he sought and obtained a last inter- 
view with Mary Brand. 

" Mary," said he, " I'm about to break. 
They're hunting me like a fall buck, and I'm 
bound to quit. Don't think any more about me, 
for I shall never come back." 

Poor Mary burst into tears, and bent her head 
on the table near which she sat. When she again 
raised it, she saw La Bonte, his long rifle upon his 
shoulder, striding with rapid steps from the house. 
Year after year rolled on, and he did not return. 



CHAPTER III 

A FEW days after his departure, La Bonte 
found himself at St. Louis, the empor- 
ium of the fur-trade, and the fast-rising 
metropolis of the precocious settlements of the 
West. Here, a prey to the agony of mind which 
jealousy, remorse, and blighted love mix into a 
very puchero of misery, he got into the company 
of certain rowdies, a class that every western city 
particularly abounds in; and anxious to drown 
his sorrows in any way, and quite unscrupulous 
as to the means, he plunged into all the vicious 
excitements of drinking, gambling, and fighting, 
which form the every-day amusements of the ris- 
ing generation of St. Louis. 

Perhaps in no other part of the United States 
— where, indeed, humanity is frequently to be seen 
in many curious and unusual phases — is there a 
population so marked in its general character, and 
at the same time divided into such distinct classes, 
as in the above-named city. Dating, as it does, 
its foundation from yesterday,* — for what are 

* He means as an American city. St. Louis was founded 
by the French in 1764; transferred to the United States in 
1804. {Ed.) 

93 



94 IN THE OLD WEST 

forty years in the growth of a metropolis ? — its 
founders are now scarcely past middle life, re- 
garding with astonishment the growing works of 
their hands ; and whilst gazing upon its busy 
quays, piled with grain and other produce of the 
West, its fleets of huge steamboats lying tier upon 
tier alongside the wharves, its well-stored ware- 
houses, and all the bustling concomitants of a 
great commercial depot, they can scarcely realize 
the memory of a few short years, when on the same 
spot nothing was to be seen but the miserable 
hovels of a French village — the only sign of com- 
merce being the unwieldy bateaux of the Indian 
traders, laden with peltries from the distant re- 
gions of the Platte and Upper Missouri. Where 
now intelligent and wealthy merchants walk erect, 
in conscious substantiality of purse and credit, 
and direct the commerce of a vast and well-peo- 
pled region, there stalked but the other day, in 
dress of buckskin, the Indian trader of the West; 
and all the evidences of life, mayhap, consisted of 
the eccentric vagaries of the different bands of 
trappers and hardy mountaineers who accom- 
panied, some for pleasure and some as escort, the 
periodically arriving bateaux, laden with the 
beaver-skins and buffalo-robes collected during the 
season at the different trading-posts in the Far 
West.* 

These, nevertheless, were the men whose hardy 

* Written in 1848. {Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 95 

enterprise opened to commerce and the plow the 
vast and fertile regions of the West. Rough and 
savage though they were, they were the true pion- 
eers of that extraordinary tide of civilization 
which has poured its resistless current through 
tracts large enough for kings to govern, over a 
country now teeming with cultivation, where, a 
few short years ago, countless herds of buffalo 
roamed unmolested, where the bear and deer 
abounded, and the savage Indian skulked through 
the woods and prairies, lord of the unappreciated 
soil that now yields its pr6lific treasures to the 
spade and plow of civilized man. To the wild 
and half-savage trapper, who may be said to ex- 
emplify the energy, enterprise, and hardihood 
characteristic of the American people, divested of 
all the false and vicious glare with which a high 
state of civilization, too rapidly attained, has ob- 
scured their real and genuine character, in which 
the above traits are eminently prominent — to 
these men alone is due the empire of the West, 
destined in a few short years to become the most 
important of those confederated States compos- 
ing the mighty Union of North America. 

Sprung, then, out of the wild and adventurous 
fur-trade, St. Louis, still the emporium of that 
species of commerce, preserves even now, in the 
character of its population, many of the marked 
peculiarities distinguishing its early founders, who 
were identified with the primitive Indian in hardi- 



96 IN THE OLD WEST 

hood and instinctive wisdom. Whilst the French 
portion of the population retain the thoughtless 
levity and frivolous disposition of their original 
source, the Americans of St. Louis, who may lay 
claim to be native, as' it were, are as strongly dis- 
tinguished for determination and energy of char- 
acter as they are for physical strength and ani- 
mal courage; and are remarkable, at the same 
time, for a singular aptitude in carrying out com- 
mercial enterprises to successful terminations, ap- 
parently incompatible with the thirst of adventure 
and excitement which forms so prominent a feature 
in their character. In St. Louis and with her 
merchants have originated many commercial en- 
terprises of gigantic speculation, not confined to 
the immediate locality or to the distant Indian 
fur-trade, but embracing all parts of the con- 
tinent, and even a portion of the Old World. And 
here it must be remembered that St. Louis is situ- 
ated inland, at a distance of upwards of one thou- 
sand miles from the sea. 

Besides her merchants and upper class, who 
form a little aristocracy even here, a large portion 
of her population, still connected with the Indian 
and fur trade, preserve all their original character- 
istics, unacted upon by the influence of advancing 
civilization. There is, moreover, a large float- 
ing population of foreigners of all nations, who 
must possess no little amount of enterprise to be 
tempted to this spot, whence they spread over the 



IN THE OLD WEST 97 

remote western tracts, still infested by the sav- 
age; so that, if any of their blood is infused into 
the native population, the characteristic energy 
and enterprise is increased, and not tempered down 
by the foreign cross. 

But perhaps the most singular of the casual 
population are the mountaineers, who, after sev- 
eral seasons spent in trapping, and with good 
store of dollars, arrive from the scene of their ad- 
ventures, wild as savages, determined to enjoy 
themselves, for a time, in all the gayety and dis- 
sipation of the western city. In one of the back 
streets of the town is a tavern well known as the 
Rocky-Mountain House ; and hither the trappers 
resort, drinking and fighting as long as their 
money lasts, which, as they are generous and lav- 
ish as Jack Tars, is for a few days only. Such 
scenes, both tragic and comic, as are enacted in 
the Rocky-Mountain House, are beyond the powers 
of pen to describe; and when a fandango is in 
progress, to which congregate the coquettish belles 
from " Vide Poche," * as the French portion of the 
suburb is nicknamed, the grotesque endeavors of 
the bear-like mountaineers to sport a figure on 
the light fantastic toe, and their insertions into 
the dance of the mystic jumps of Terpsichorean 
Indians when engaged in the " medicine " dances 
in honor of bear, of buffalo, or ravished scalp, are 

* Empty Pocket: A humorous nickname that the old 
French bestowed upon Carondelet. (Ed.) 



98 IN THE OLD WEST 

such startling innovations on the choreographic 
art as would make the shade of Gallini quake and 
gibber in his pumps. 

Passing the open doors and windows of the 
Mountain House, the stranger stops short as the 
sounds of violin and banjo twang upon his ears, 
accompanied by extraordinary noises — sounding 
unearthly to the greenhorn listener, but recog- 
nized by the initiated as an Indian song roared out 
of the stentorian lungs of a mountaineer, who, 
patting his stomach with open hands to improve 
the necessary shake, choruses the well-known In- 
dian chant: — 

Hi — Hi — Hi — Hi 

Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i 
Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya 

Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya 
Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi — hi, 
&c., &c., &c. 

and polishes off the high notes with a whoop which 
makes the old wooden houses shake again, as it 
rattles and echoes down the street. 

Here, over fiery " monaghahela," Jean Batiste, 
the sallow half-breed voyageur from the North 
— and who, deserting the service of the " North- 
West " (the Hudson's Bay Company), has come 
down the Mississippi, from the " Falls," to try 
the sweets and liberty of *' free " trapping — hob- 
nobs with a stalwart leather-clad " boy," just re- 



IN THE OLD WEST 99 

turned from trapping on the waters of Grand 
River, on the western side the mountains, who in- 
terlards his mountain jargon with Spanish words 
picked up in Taos and California. In one corner 
a trapper, lean and gaunt from the starving re- 
gions of the Yellow Stone, has just recognized 
an old campanyero, with whom he hunted years 
before in the perilous country of the Blackfeet. 

" Why, John, old hoss, how do you come on? " 

"What! Meek, old 'coon! I thought you 
were under? " 

One from Arkansa stalks into the center of the 
room, with a pack of cards in his hand and a 
handful of dollars in his hat. Squatting cross- 
legged on a buffalo-robe, he smacks down the 
money and cries out " Ho, boys ! hyar's a deck, 
and hyar's the beaver " (rattling the coin) ; " who 
dar set his hoss? Wagh! " 

Tough are the yarns of wondrous hunts and 
Indian perils, of hairbreadth 'scapes and curious 
" fixes." Transcendent are the qualities of sun- 
dry rifles which call these hunters masters; 
" plum " is the " center " each vaunted barrel 
shoots ; sufficing for a hundred wigs is the " hair " 
each hunter has " lifted " from Indians' scalps ; 
multitudinous the " coups " he has " struck." As 
they drink so do they brag, first of their guns, 
their horses, and their squaws, and lastly of them- 
selves : and when it comes to that, " ware steel." 

La Bonte, on his arrival at St. Louis, found 



100 IN THE OLD WEST 

himself one day in no less a place than this ; and 
here he made acquaintance with an old trapper 
about to start for the mountains in a few days, to 
hunt on the head-waters of Platte and Green 
River. With this man he resolved to start, and, 
having still some hundred dollars in cash, he im- 
mediately set about equipping himself for the ex- 
pedition. To effect this, he first of all visited the 
gun-store of Hawken, whose rifles are renowned in 
the mountains, and exchanged his own piece, which 
was of very small bore, for a regular mountain 
rifle. This was of very heavy metal, carrying 
about thirty-two balls to the pound, stocked to 
the muzzle, and mounted with brass ; its only orna- 
ment being a buffalo bull, looking exceedingly 
ferocious, which was not very artistically engraved 
upon the trap in the stock. Here, too, he laid in 
a few pounds of powder and lead, and all the 
necessaries for a long hunt. 

His next visit was to a smith's store, which 
smith was black by trade and black by nature, 
for he was a nigger, and, moreover, celebrated as 
being the best maker of beaver-traps in St. Louis ; 
and of him he purchased six new traps, paying 
for the same twenty dollars — procuring, at the 
same time, an old trap-sack made of stout buffalo- 
skin in which to carry them. 

We next find La Bonte and his companion — 
one Luke, better known as Gouge-Eye, one of his 
eyes having been " gouged " in a mountain fray 



IN THE OLD WEST 101 

— at Independence, a little town situated on the 
Missouri, several hundred miles above St. Louis, 
and within a short distance of the Indian frontier. 
Independence may be termed the prairie port 
of the western country. Here the caravans des- 
tined for Santa Fe, and the interior of Mexico, 
assemble to complete their necessary equipment. 
Mules and oxen are purchased, teamsters hired, 
and all stores and outfit laid in here for the long 
journey over the wide expanse of prairie ocean. 
Here, too, the Indian traders and the Rocky- 
Mountain trappers rendezvous, collecting in suffi- 
cient force to insure their safe passage through 
the Indian country. At the seasons of departure 
and arrival of these bands, the little town pre- 
sents a lively scene of bustle and confusion. The 
wild and dissipated mountaineers get rid of their 
last dollars in furious orgies, treating all comers 
to galore of drink, and pledging each other, in 
horns of potent whisky, to successful hunts and 
" heaps of beaver." When every cent has dis- 
appeared from their pouches, the free trapper 
often makes away with rifle, traps, and animals, 
to gratify his "dry" (for your mountaineer is 
never "thirsty"); and then, "boss and beaver" 
gone, is necessitated to hire himself to one of the 
leaders of big bands, and hypothecate his serv- 
ices for an equipment of traps and animals. Thus 
La Bonte picked up three excellent mules for a 
mere song, with their accompanying pack-saddles, 



102 IN THE OLD WEST 

apishamoresy* and lariats, and the next day, with 
Luke, '' put out " for Platte. 

As they passed through the rendezvous, which 
was encamped on a little stream beyond the town, 
even our young Mississippian was struck with the 
novelty of the scene. Upwards of forty huge 
wagons, of Conestoga and Pittsburgh build, and 
covered with snow-white tilts, were ranged in a 
semicircle, or rather a horse-shoe form, on the flat 
open prairie, their long tongues (poles) pointing 
outwards ; with the necessary harness for four 
pairs of mules, or eight yoke of oxen, lying on the 
ground beside them, spread in ready order for 
hitching up. Round the wagons groups of team- 
sters, tall, stalwart, young Missourians, were en- 
gaged in busy preparation for the start, greasing 
the wheels, fitting or repairing harness, smoothing 
ox-bows or overhauling their own moderate kits 
or " possibles." They were all dressed in the same 
fashion: a pair of homespun pantaloons, tucked 
into thick boots reaching nearly to the knee, and 
confined round the waist by a broad leathern belt, 
which supported a strong butcher-knife in a 
sheath. A coarse checked shirt was their only 
other covering, with a fur cap on the head. 

Numerous camp-fires surrounded the wagons, 
and near them lounged wild-looking mountaineers, 
easily distinguished from the " greenhorn " team- 
sters by their dresses of buckskin and their 
* Saddle-blanket made of buffalo-calf skin. 



IN THE OLD WEST IQS 

weathier-beaten faces. Without an exception, 
these were under the influence of the rosy god; 
and one, who sat, the picture of misery, at a fire 
by himself — staring into the blaze with vacant 
countenance, his long matted hair hanging in un- 
kempt masses over his face, begrimed with the 
dirt of a week, and pallid with the effects of ar- 
dent drink — was suffering from the usual con- 
sequences of having " kept it up " beyond the 
usual point, paying the penalty in a fit of " hor- 
rors " — as delirium tremens is most aptly termed 
by sailors and the unprofessional. 

In another part, the merchants of the caravan 
and the Indian traders superintended the lading 
of the wagons or mule-packs. They were dressed 
in civilized attire, and some were even bedizened in 
St. Louis or eastern city dandyism, to the infinite 
disgust of the mountain men, who look upon a 
" bourge-way " (bourgeois) with most undis- 
guised contempt, despising the very simplest 
forms of civilization. The picturesque appear- 
ance of the encampment was not a little heightened 
by the addition of several Indians from the neigh- 
boring Shawnee settlement, who, mounted on their 
small active horses, on which they reclined rather 
than sat in negligent attitudes, quietly looked on 
at the novel scene, indifferent to the chaff in which 
the thoughtless teamsters indulged at their ex- 
pense. Numbers of mules and horses were picketed 
at hand, whilst a large herd of noble oxen were 



104 IN THE OLD WEST 

being driven towards the camp — the wo-lia of 
the teamsters sounding far and near, as they col- 
lected the scattered beasts in order to yoke up. 

As most of the mountain-men were utterly un- 
able to move from camp, Luke and La Bonte, with 
three or four of the most sober, started in com- 
pany, intending to wait on Blue, a stream which 
runs into the Caw or Kanzas River, until the " bal- 
ance " of the band came up. Mounting their 
mules, and leading the loose animals, they struck 
at once into the park-like prairie, and were speed- 
ily out of sight of civilization. 

It was the latter end of May, towards the close 
of the season of heavy rains, which in early spring 
render the climate of this country almost intoler- 
able, at the same time that they fertilize and thaw 
the soil, so long bound up by the winter's frosts. 
The grass was everywhere luxuriantly green, and 
gaudy flowers dotted the surface of the prairie. 
This term, however, should hardly be applied to 
the beautiful undulating scenery of this park-like 
country. Unlike the flat monotony of the Grand 
Plains, here well-wooded uplands, clothed with 
forest-trees of every species, and picturesque 
dells, through which run clear bubbling streams 
belted with gay-blossomed shrubs, everywhere 
present themselves ; whilst on the level meadow- 
land, topes of trees with spreading foliage afford 
a shelter to the game and cattle, and well-tim- 
bered knolls rise at intervals from the plain. 



IN THE OLD WEST 105 

Many clear streams dashing over their pebbly 
beds intersect the country, from which, in the 
noonday's heat, the red-deer jump, shaking their 
wet sides as the noise of approaching man dis- 
turbs them ; and booming grouse rise from the tall 
luxuriant herbage at every step. Where the deep 
escarpments of the river-banks exhibit the section 
of the earth, a rich alluvial soil of surpassing depth 
courts the cultivation of civilized man ; and in 
every feature it is evident that here nature has 
worked with kindliest and most bountiful hand. 

For hundreds of miles along the western or 
right bank of the Missouri does a country extend, 
with which, for fertility and natural resources, 
no part of Europe can stand comparison. Suffi- 
ciently large to contain an enormous population, 
it has, besides, every advantage of position, and 
all the natural capabilities which should make it 
the happy abode of civilized man. Through this 
unpeopled country the United States pours her 
greedy thousands, to seize upon the baiTen terri- 
tories of her feeble neighbor. 

Camping the first night on Black Jack, our 
mountaineers here cut each man a spare hickory 
w^iping-stick for his rifle; and La Bonte, who was 
the only greenhorn of the part}', witnessed a sav- 
age ebullition of rage on the part of one of his 
companions, exhibiting the perfect unrestraint 
which these men impose upon their passions, and 
the barbarous anger which the slightest opposi- 



106 IN THE OLD WEST 

tion to their will excites. One of the trappers, on 
arriving at the camping-place, dismounted from 
his horse, and, after divesting it of the saddle, en- 
deavored to lead his mule by the rope up to the 
spot where he wished to deposit his pack. Mule- 
like, however, the more he pulled the more stub- 
bornly she remained in her tracks, planting her 
fore legs firmly, and stretching out her neck with 
provoking obstinacy. Truth to tell, it does re- 
quire the temper of a thousand Jobs to manage a 
mule ; and in no case does the willful mulishness of 
the animal stir up one's choler more than in the 
very trick this one played, and which is a daily 
occurrence. After tugging ineffectually for sev- 
eral minutes, winding the rope round his body, 
and throwing himself suddenly forward with all 
his strength, the trapper actually foamed with 
passion ; and although he might have subdued the 
animal at once by fastening the rope with a half- 
hitch round its nose, this, with an obstinacy equal 
to that of the mule itself, he refused to attempt, 
preferring to vanquish her by main strength. 
Failing so to do, the mountaineer, with a volley 
of blasphemous imprecations, suddenly seized his 
rifle, and, leveling it at the mule's head, shot her 
dead. 

Passing the Wa-ka-rasha,* a well-timbered 
stream, they met a band of Osages going " to 
buffalo." These Indians, in common with some 

*Wakarusa. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 107 

tribes of the Pawnees, shave the head, with the 
exception of a ridge from the forehead to the 
center of the scalp, which is roached or hogged 
like the mane of a mule, and stands erect, plas- 
tered with unguents, and ornamented with feathers 
of the hawk and turkey. The naked scalp is often 
painted in mosaic with black and red, the face 
with shining vermilion. This band were all naked 
to the breech-clout, the warmth of the sun hav- 
ing made them throw their dirty blankets from 
their shoulders. These Indians not unfrequently 
levy contributions on the strangers they accident- 
ally meet ; but they easily distinguish the deter- 
mined mountaineer from the incautious greenhorn, 
and think it better to let the former alone. 

Crossing Vermilion, the trappers arrived on the 
fifth day at Blue, where they encamped in the 
broad timber belting the creek, and there awaited 
the arrival of the remainder of the party. 

It was two days before they came up; but the 
following day they started for the mountains, 
fourteen in number, striking a trail which follows 
the Big Blue in its course through the prairies, 
which, as they advanced to the westward, gradually 
smoothed away into a vast unbroken expanse of 
rolling plain. Herds of antelope began to show 
themselves, and some of the hunters, leaving the 
trail, soon returned with plenty of their tender 
meat. The luxuriant but coarse grass they had 
hitherto seen now changed into the nutritious and 



1108 IN THE OLD WEST 

curly buffalo grass, and their animals soon im- 
proved in appearance on the excellent pasture. 
In a few days, without any adventure, they struck 
the Platte River, its shallow waters (from which 
it derives its name) spreading over a wide and 
sandy bed, numerous sand-bars obstructing the 
sluggish current, nowhere sufficiently deep to wet 
the forder's knee. 

By this time, but few antelope having been seen, 
the party ran entirely out of meat ; and one whole 
day and part of another having passed without 
so much as a stray rabbit presenting itself, not 
a few objurgations on the buffalo grumbled from 
the lips of the hunters, who expected ere this to 
have reached the land of plenty. La Bonte killed 
a fine deer, however, in the river bottom, after they 
had encamped, not one particle of which remained 
after supper that night, but which hardly took the 
rough edge off their keen appetites. Although 
already in the buffalo range, no traces of these 
animals had yet been seen-; and as the country 
afforded but little game, and the party did not 
care to halt and lose time in hunting for it, they 
moved along hungry and sulky, the theme of con- 
versation being the well-remembered merits of 
good buffalo-meat, — of fat fleece, hump-rib, and 
tenderloin ; of delicious " boudins," and marrow- 
bones too good to think of. La Bonte had never 
seen the lordly animal, and consequently but half 
believed the accounts of the mountaineers, who de- 



IN THE OLD WEST 109 

scribed their countless bands as covering the 
prairie far as the eye could reach, and requiring 
days of travel to pass through; but the visions 
of such dainty and abundant feeding as they des- 
canted on set his mouth watering, and danced 
before his eyes as he slept supperless, night after 
night, on the banks of the hungry Platte. 

One morning he had packed his animals before 
the rest, and was riding a mile in advance of the 
party, when he s.aw on one side the trail, looming 
in the refracted glare which mirages the plains, 
three large dark objects without shape or form, 
which rose and fell in the exaggerated light like 
ships at sea. Doubting what it could be, he ap- 
proached the strange objects; and as the refrac- 
tion disappeared before him, the dark masses as- 
sumed a more distinct form, and clearly moved 
with life. A little nearer, and he made them out : 
they were buffalo. Thinking to distinguish hjm- 
self, the greenhorn dismounted from his mule and 
quickly hobbled her, throwing his lasso on the 
ground to trail behind when he wished to catch 
her. Then, rifle in hand, he approached the huge 
animals, and, being a good hunter, knew well to 
take advantage of the inequalities of the ground 
and face the wind; by which means he crawled at 
length to within forty yards of the buffalo, which 
quietly cropped the grass, unconscious of danger. 
Now, for the first time, he gazed upon the noble 
beast he had so often heard of and longed to see. 



110 IN THE OLD WEST 

With coal-black beard sweeping the ground as he 
fed, an enormous bull was in advance of the others, 
his wild brilliant eyes peering from an immense 
mass of shaggy hair, which covered his neck and 
shoulder. From this point his skin was smooth 
as one's hand, a sleek and shining dun, and his 
ribs were well covered with shaking flesh. Whilst 
leisurely cropping the short curly grass, he oc- 
casionally lifted his tail into the air, and stamped 
his foot as a fly or mosquito annoyed him — flap- 
ping the intruder with his tail, or snatching at 
the itching part with his ponderous head. 

When La Bonte had sufiiciently admired the 
bufl^alo, he lifted his rifle, and, taking steady aim, 
and certain of his mark, pulled the trigger, ex- 
pecting to see the huge beast fall over at the re- 
port. What was his surprise and consternation, 
however, to see the animal only flinch when the ball 
struck him, and then gallop off^, followed by the 
others, apparently unhurt. As is generally the 
case with greenhorns, he had fired too high, igno- 
rant that the only certain spot to strike a bufl*alo 
is but a few inches above the brisket, and that a 
higher shot is rarely fatal. When he rose from 
the ground he saw all the party halting in full 
view of his discomfiture; and when he joined them, 
loud were the laughs, and deep the regrets of the 
hungry at his first attempt. 

However, they now knew that they were in the 
country of meat ; and a few miles farther, another 



IN THE OLD WEST 111 

band of stragglers presenting themselves, three of 
the hunters went in pursuit, La Bonte taking a 
mule to pack in the meat. He soon saw them 
crawling towards the band, and shortly two puffs 
of smoke, and the sharp cracks of their rifles, 
showed that they had got within shot; and when 
he rode up, two fine buffaloes were stretched upon 
the ground. Now, for the first time, he was in- 
itiated in the mysteries of butchering. He 
watched the hunters as they turned the carcass 
on the belly, stretching out the legs to support 
it on each side. A transverse cut was then made 
at the nape of the neck, and, gathering the long 
hair of the boss in one hand, the skin was separated 
from the shoulder. It was then laid open from 
this point to the tail, along the spine, and then, 
freed from the sides and pulled down to the bris- 
ket, but still attached to it, was stretched upon 
the ground to receive the dissected portions. 
Then the shoulder was severed, the fleece removed 
from along the backbone, and the hump-ribs cut 
off with a tomahawk. All this was placed upon 
the skin ; and after the " boudins " had been with- 
drawn from the stomach, and the tongue — a 
great dainty — taken from the head, the meat was 
packed upon the mule, and the whole party hurried 
to camp rejoicing. 

There was merry-making in the camp that night, 
and the way they indulged their appetites — or, in 
their own language, " throwed " the meat " cold " 



112 IN THE OLD WEST 

— would have made the heart of a dyspeptic leap 
for joy or burst with envy. Far into the " still 
watches of the tranquil night," the fat-clad " de- 
pouille " saw its fleshy mass grow small by de- 
grees and beautifully less before the trenchant 
blades of the hungry mountaineers ; appetizing 
yards of well-browned " boudin " slipped glibly 
down their throats ; rib after rib of tender hump 
was picked and flung to the wolves ; and when 
human nature, with helpless gratitude, and con- 
fident that nothing of superexcellent comestibility 
remained, was lazily wiping the greasy knife that 
had done such good service, a skillful hunter was 
seen to chuckle to himself as he raked the deep 
ashes of the fire, and drew therefrom a pair of 
tongues so admirably baked, so soft, so sweet, and 
of such exquisite flavor, that a veil is considerately 
drawn over the effects their discussion produced 
in the mind of our greenhorn La Bonte, and the 
raptures they excited in the bosom of that, as yet, 
most ignorant mountaineer. Still, as he ate he 
wondered, and wondering admired, that nature, 
in giving him such profound gastronomic powers, 
and such transcendent capabilities of digestion, 
had yet bountifully provided an edible so peculiarly 
adapted to his ostrich-like appetite, that after 
consuming nearly his own weight in rich and fat 
bufl'alo-meat, he felt as easy and as little incom- 
moded as if he had lightly supped on strawberries 
and cream. 



IN, THE OLD WEST 113 

Sweet was the digestive pipe after such a feast ; 
soft was the sleep and deep, which sealed the eyes 
of the contented trappers that night. It felt like 
the old thing, they said, to be once more amongst 
the " meat " ; and, as they were drawing near the 
dangerous portion of the trail, they felt at home; 
although they now could never be confident, when 
they lay down at night upon their buffalo-robes, 
of awaking again in this life, knowing, as they 
did, full well, that savage men lurked near, thirst- 
ing for their blood. 

However, no enemies showed themselves as yet, 
and they proceeded quietly up the river, vast herds 
of buffaloes darkening the plains around them, 
affording them more than abundance of the choic- 
est meat; but, to their credit be it spoken, no 
more was killed than was absolutely required — 
unlike the cruel slaughter made by most of the 
white travelers across the plains, who wantonly 
destroy these noble animals, not even for the ex- 
citement of sport, but in cold-blooded and insane 
butchery. La Bonte had practice enough to per- 
fect him in the art, and, before the buffalo 
range was passed, lie was ranked as a first-rate 
hunter. 

One evening he had left the camp for meat, and 
was approaching a band of cows for that pur- 
pose, crawling towards them along the bed of 
a dry hollow in the prairie, when he observed 
them suddenly jump towards him, and immediately 



114; IN THE OLD WEST 

afterwards a score of mounted Indians appeared, 
whom, by their dress, he at once knew to be Paw- 
nees and enemies. Thinking they might not dis- 
cover him, he crouched down in the ravine ; but a 
noise behind caused him to turn his head, and he 
saw some five or six advancing up the bed of the 
dry creek, whilst several more were riding on the 
bluffs. The cunning savages had cut off his re- 
treat to his mule, which he saw in the possession 
of one of them. Plis presence of mind, however, 
did not desert him ; and seeing at once that to re- 
main where he was would be like being caught in 
a trap (as the Indians could advance to the edge 
of the bluff and shoot him from above), he made 
for the open prairie, determined at least to sell 
his scalp dearly, and make a good fight. With a 
yell the Indians charged, but halted when they 
saw the sturdy trapper deliberately kneel, and, 
resting his rifle on the wiping-stick, take a steady 
aim as they advanced. Full well the Pawnees 
know, to their cost, that a mountaineer seldom 
pulls his trigger without sending a bullet to the 
mark; and, certain that one at least must fall, 
they hesitated to make the onslaught. Steadily 
the white retreated with his face to the foe, bring- 
ing the rifle to his shoulder the instant that one 
advanced within shot, the Indians galloping round, 
firing the few guns they had amongst them at long 
distances, but without effect. One young brave, 
more daring than the rest, rode out of the crowd, 



IN THE OLD WEST 115 

and dashed at the hunter, throwing himself, as 
he passed within a few yards, from the saddle, 
and hanging over the opposite side of his horse, 
thus presenting no other mark than his left foot. 
As he crossed La Bonte, he discharged his bow 
from under his horse's neck, and with such good 
aim, that the arrow, whizzing through the air, 
struck the stock of the hunter's rifle, which was 
at his shoulder, and, glancing off^, pierced his arm, 
inflicting, luckily, but a slight wound. Again the 
Indian turned in his course, the others encourag- 
ing him with loud war-whoops, and once more, 
passing at still less distance, he drew his arrow 
to the head. This time, however, the eagle eye 
of the white detected the action, and suddenly ris- 
ing from his knee as the Indian approached (hang- 
ing by his foot alone over the opposite side of the 
horse), he jumped towards the animal with out- 
stretched arms and a loud yell, causing it to start 
suddenly, and swerve from its course. The In- 
dian lost his foot-hold, and, after a fruitless strug- 
gle to regain his position, fell to the ground; but 
instantly rose upon his feet and gallantly con- 
fronted the mountaineer, striking his hand upon 
his brawny chest and shouting a loud whoop of 
defiance. In another instant the rifle of La Bonte 
had poured forth its contents ; and the brave sav- 
age, springing into the air, fell dead to the ground, 
just as the other trappers, who had heard the fir- 
ing, galloped up to the spot. At sight of them 



116 IN THE OLD WEST 

the Pawnees, with jells of disappointed vengeance, 
hastily retreated. 

That night La Bonte first lifted hair! 

A few days after, the mountaineers reached the 
point where the Platte divides into two great forks : 
the northern one, stretching to the north-west, 
skirts the eastern base of the Black Hills, and, 
sweeping round to the south, rises in the vicinity 
of the mountain valley called the New Park, re- 
ceiving the Laramie, Medicine Bow, and Sweet- 
water creeks. The other, or South Fork, strikes 
towards the mountains in a south-westerly direc- 
tion, hugging the base of the main chain of the 
Rocky Mountains ; and, fed by several small 
creeks, rises in the uplands of the Bayou Salade, 
near which is also the source of the Arkansa. To 
the forks of the Platte the valley of that river 
extends from three to five miles on each side, in- 
closed by steep sandy bluffs, from the summits of 
which the prairies stretch away in broad undulat- 
ing expanse to the north and south. The bot- 
tom, as it is termed, is but thinly covered with 
timber, the cotton woods being scattered only here 
and there ; but some of the islands in the broad 
bed of the stream are well wooded, leading to the 
inference that the trees on the banks have been 
felled by Indians who formerly frequented the 
neighborhood of this river as a chosen hunting- 
ground. As, during the long winters, the pasture 
in the vicinity is scarce and withered, the Indians 



IN THE OLD WEST 117 

fe'ed their horses on the bark of the sweet cotton 
wood, upon which they subsist, and even fatten. 
Thus, wherever a village has encamped, the trunks 
of these trees strew the ground, their upper limbs 
and smaller branches peeled of their bark, and 
looking as white and smooth as if scraped with a 
knife. 

On the forks, however, the timber is heavier and 
of greater variety, some of the creeks being well 
wooded with ash and cherry, which break the mo- 
notony of the everlasting cotton wood. 

Dense masses of buffalo still continued to 
darken the plains, and numerous bands of wolves 
hovered round the outskirts of the vast herds, 
singling out the sick and wounded animals, and 
preying upon such calves as the rifles and arrows 
of the hunters had bereaved of their mothers. 
The white wolf is the invariable attendant upon 
the buffalo ; and when one of these persevering 
animals is seen, it is a certain sign that buffalo 
are not far distant. Besides the buffalo wolf, 
there are four distinct varieties common to the 
plains, and all more or less attendant upon the 
buffalo. These are, the black, the gray, the 
brown, and, last and least, the coyote or cayeute 
of the mountaineers, the wachunkamanety or 
" medicine wolf " of the Indians, who hold the lat- 
ter animal in reverential awe. This little wolf, 
whose fur is of great thickness and beauty, is of 
diminutive size, but wonderfully sagacious, making 



118 IN THE OLD WEST 

up by cunning what it wants in physical strength. 
In bands of from three to thirty they not unfre- 
quently station themselves along the " runs " of 
the deer and the antelope, extending their line for 
many miles; and the quarry being started, each 
wolf follows in pursuit until tired, when it relin- 
quishes the chase to another relay, following 
slowly after until the animal is fairly run down, 
when all hurry to the spot and speedily consume 
the carcass. The cayeute, however, is often made 
a tool of by his larger brethren, unless, indeed, 
he acts from motives of spontaneous charity. 
When a hunter has slaughtered game, and is in 
the act of butchering it, these little wolves sit 
patiently at a short distance from the scene of 
operations, while at a more respectful one the 
larger wolves (the white or gray) lope hungrily 
around, licking their chops in hungry expectation. 
Not unfrequently the hunter throws a piece of 
meat towards the smaller one, who seizes it im- 
mediately, and runs off with the morsel in his 
mouth. Before he gets many yards with his prize, 
the large wolf pounces with a growl upon him, 
and the cayeute, dropping the meat, returns to 
his former position, and will continue his char- 
itable act as long as the hunter pleases to supply 
him. 

Wolves are so common on the plains and in the 
mountains, that the hunter never cares to throw 
away a charge of ammunition upon them, al- 



IN THE OLD WEST 119 

though the ravenous animals are a constant source 
of annoyance to him, creeping to the camp-fire 
at night, and gnawing his saddles and apisha- 
mores, eating the skin ropes which secure the horses 
and mules to their pickets, and even their very 
hobbles, and not unfrequently killing or entirely 
disabling the animals themselves. 

Round the camp, during the night, the cayeute 
keeps unremitting watch, and the traveler not un- 
frequently starts from his bed with affright, as 
the mournful and unearthly chiding of the wolf 
breaks suddenly upon his. ear: the long-drawn 
howl being taken up by others of the band, until 
it dies away in the distance, or some straggler 
passing within hearing answers to the note, and 
howls as he lopes away. 

Our party crossed the south fork about ten 
miles from its juncture with the main stream, and 
then, passing the prairie, struck the north fork 
a day's travel from the other. At the mouth of 
an ash-timbered creek they came upon Indian 
" sign," and as now they were in the vicinity of the 
treacherous Sioux, they moved along with addi- 
tional caution. Frapp and Gonneville, two expe- 
rienced mountaineers, always heading the ad- 
vance. 

About noon they had crossed over to the left 
bank of the fork, intending to camp on a large 
creek where some fresh beaver sign had attracted 
the attention of some of the trappers ; and as, on 



120 IN THE OLD WEST 

further examination, it appeared that two or three 
lodges of that animal were not far distant, it was 
determined to remain here a day or two, and set 
their traps. 

Gonneville, old Luke, and La Bonte, had started 
up the creek, and were carefully examining the 
banks for sign, when the former, who was in front, 
suddenly paused, and, looking intently up the 
stream, held up his hand to his companions to 
signal them to stop. 

Luke and La Bonte both followed the direction 
of the trapper's intent and fixed gaze. The 
former uttered in a suppressed tone the expressive 
exclamation, Wagh ! — the latter saw nothing but 
a wood-duck swimming swiftly down the stream, 
followed by her downy progeny. 

Gonneville turned his head, and, extending his 
arm twice with a forward motion up the creek, 
whispered, " Les sauvages." 

" Injuns, sure, and Sioux at that," answered 
Luke. 

Still La Bonte looked, but notliing met his view 
but the duck with her brood, now rapidly ap- 
proaching; and as he gazed, the bird suddenly 
took wing, and, flapping on the water, flew a short 
distance down the stream and once more settled 
on it. 

"Injuns?" he asked; "where are they?" 

" Whar? " repeated old Luke, striking the flint 
of his rifle, and opening the pan to examine the 



IN THE OLD WEST 1^1 

ipriming. " What brings a duck a-streakin' it 
down stream if humans ain't behint her? and who's 
thar in these diggins but Injuns, and the worst 
kind? and we'd better push to camp, I'm think- 
ing, if we mean to save our hair." 

" Sign " sufficient, indeed, it was to all the 
trappers, who, on being apprised of it, instantly 
drove in their animals and picketed them; and 
hardly had they done so when a band of Indians 
made their appearance on the banks of the creek, 
from whence they galloped to the bluff which over- 
looked the camp at the distance of about six hun- 
dred yards ; and crowning this in number some 
forty or more, commenced brandishing their spears 
and guns, and whooping loud yells of defiance. 
The trappers had formed a little breastwork of 
their packs, forming a semicircle, the chord of 
which was made by the animals standing in a line, 
side by side, closely picketed and hobbled. Behind 
this defense stood the mountaineers, rifle in hand, 
and silent and determined. The Indians presently 
descended the bluff on foot, leaving their animals 
in charge of a few of the party, and, scattering, 
advanced, under cover of the sage-bushes which 
dotted the bottom, to about two hundred yards 
of the whites. Then a chief advanced before the 
rest, and made the sign for a talk with the Lcmg- 
knives, which led to a consultation amongst the 
latter as to the policy of acceding to it. They 
were in doubts as to the nation these Indians be- 



122 IN THE OLD WEST 

longed to, some bands of the Sioux being friendly, 
and others bitterly hostile, to the whites. 

Gonneville, who spoke the Sioux language, and 
was well acquainted with the nation, affirmed they 
belonged to a band called the Yanka-taus,* well 
known to be the most evil-disposed of that treach- 
erous nation ; another of the party maintained 
they were Brules, and that the chief advancing 
towards them was the well-known Tah-sha-tunga 
or Bull Tail, a most friendly chief of that tribe. 
The majority, however, trusted to Gonneville, and 
he volunteered to go out to meet the Indian, and 
hear what he had to say. Divesting himself of all 
arms save his butcher-knife, he advanced towards 
the savage, who awaited his approach enveloped 
in the folds of his blanket. At a glance he knew 
him to be a Yanka-tau, from the peculiar make 
of his moccasins, and the way in which his face was 
daubed with paint. 

" Howgh ! " exclaimed both as they met ; and, 
after a silence of a few moments, the Indian spoke, 
asking — " Why the Long-knives hid behind their 
packs when his band approached? Were they 
afraid, or were they preparing a dog-feast to en- 
tertain their friends.? The whites were passing 
through his country, burning his wood, drinking 
his water, and killing his game; but he knew they 
had now come to pay for the mischief they had 
done, and that the mules and horses they had 

*Yanktons. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 123 

brought with them were intended as a present to 
their red friends. 

" He was Mah-to-ga-shane," he said, " the Brave 
Bear: his tongue was short, but his arm long; 
and he loved rather to speak with his bow and his 
lance than with the weapon of a squaw. He had 
said it : the Long-knives had horses with them and 
mules; and these were for him, he knew, and for 
his braves. Let the White-face go back to his 
people and return with the animals, or he, the 
Brave Bear, would have to come and take them; 
and his young men would get mad and would feel 
blood in their eyes ; and then he would have no 
power over them; and the whites would have to 
go under." 

The trapper answered shortly. " The Long- 
knives," he said, " had brought the horses for 
themselves — their hearts were big, but not 
towards the Yanka-taus ; and if they had to give 
up their animals, it would be to men and not 
squaws. They were not * wah-keitcha ' * (French 
engages), but Long-knives; and, however short 
were the tongues of the Yanka-taus, theirs were 
still shorter, and their rifles longer. The Yanka- 
taus were dogs and squaws, and the Long-knives 
spat upon them." 

* The French Canadians are called wah-keitcha — " bad 
medicine " — by the Indians, who account them treacherous 
and vindictive, and at the same time less daring than the 
American hunters. 



124 IN THE OLD WEST 

Saying this, the trapper turned his back and 
rejoined his companions; whilst the Indian slowly 
proceeded to his people, who, on learning the con- 
temptuous way in which their threats had been 
treated, testified their anger with loud yells ; and, 
seeking whatever cover was afforded, commenced 
a scattering volley upon the camp of the mountain- 
eers. The latter reserved their fire, treating with 
cool indifference the balls which began to rattle 
about them ; but as the Indians, emboldened by this 
apparent inaction, rushed for a closer position, 
and exposed their bodies within a long range, half- 
a-dozen rifles rang from the assailed, and two In- 
dians fell dead, one or two more being wounded. 
As yet, not one of the whites had been touched, 
but several of the animals had received wounds 
from the enemy's fire of balls and arrows. Indeed, 
the Indians remained at too great a distance to 
render the volleys from their crazy fusees anything 
like effectual, and had to raise their pieces con- 
siderably to make their bullets reach as far as 
the camp. After three of their band had been 
killed outright, and many more wounded, their 
fire began to slacken, and they drew off to a 
greater distance, evidently resolved to beat a re- 
treat. Retiring to the bluff, they discharged their 
pieces in a last volley, mounted their horses and 
galloped off, carrying their wounded with them. 
This last volley, however, although intended as a 
mere bravado, unfortunately proved fatal to one 



IN THE OLD WEST 125 

of the whites. Gonneville, at the moment, was 
standing on a pack, to get an uninterrupted sight 
for a last shot, when one of the random bullets 
struck him in the breast. La Bonte caught him 
in his arms as he was about to fall, and laying the 
wounded trapper gently on the ground, stripped 
him of his buckskin hunting-frock, to examine the 
wound. A glance was sufficient to convince his 
companions that the blow was mortal. The ball 
had passed through the lungs ; and in a few mo- 
ments the throat of the wounded man swelled and 
turned to a livid blue color, as the choking blood 
ascended. Only a few drops of purple blood 
trickled from the wound — a fatal sign — and the 
eyes of the mountaineer were already glazing with 
death's icy touch. His hand still grasped the 
barrel of his rifle, which had done good service in 
the fray. Anon he essayed to speak, but, choked 
with blood, only a few inarticulate words reached 
the ears of his companions as they bent over 
him. 

" Rubbed — out — at — last," they heard him 
say, the words gurgling in his blood-filled throat ; 
and opening his eyes once more, and turning them 
upwards for a last look at the bright sun, the 
trapper turned gently on his side and breathed his 
last sigh. 

With no other tools than their scalp-knives, the 
hunters dug a grave on the banks of the creek ; and 
whilst some were engaged in this work, others 



1S6 IN THE OLD WEST 

sought the bodies of the Indians they had slain in 
the attack, and presently returned with three reek- 
ing scalps, the trophies of the fight. The body 
of the mountaineer was wrapped in a buffalo-robe, 
the scalps being placed on his breast, and the dead 
man was then laid in the shallow grave, and quickly 
covered — without a word of prayer or sigh of 
grief; for however much his companions may have 
felt, not a word escaped them. The bitten lip and 
frowning brow told of anger rather than of sorrow, 
as they vowed — what they thought would better 
please the spirit of the dead man than vain regrets 
— bloody and lasting revenge. 

Tramping down the earth which filled the grave, 
they raised upon it a pile of heavy stones ; and 
packing their mules once more, and taking a last 
look at their comrade's lonely resting-place, they 
turned their backs upon the stream, which has 
ever since been known as Gonneville's Creek. 

If the reader casts his eye over any of the recent 
maps of the western country which detail the fea- 
tures of the regions embracing the Rocky Moun- 
tains and the vast prairies at their bases, he will 
not fail to observe that many of the creeks or 
smaller streams which feed the larger rivers — as 
the Missouri, Platte, and Arkansa — are called by 
familiar proper names, both English and French. 
These are invariably christened after some unfor- 
tunate trapper killed there in Indian fight, or 
treacherously slaughtered by the lurking savages, 



IN THE OLD WEST 127 

while engaged in trapping beaver on the stream. 
Thus alone is the memory of these hardy men per- 
petuated, at least of those whose fate is ascer- 
tained; for many, in every season, never return 
from their hunting expeditions, but meet a sudden 
death from Indians, or a more lingering fate from 
accident or disease in some lonely gorge of the 
mountains, where no footfall save their own, or 
the heavy tread of the grizzly bear, disturbs the 
unbroken silence of the awful solitude. Then, as 
many winters pass without some old familiar faces 
making their appearance at the merry rendezvous, 
their long-protracted absence may perhaps elicit 
a remark, as to where such and such a mountain 
worthy can have betaken himself; to which the 
casual rejoinder of " Gone under, maybe," too 
often gives a short but certain answer. 

In all the philosophy of hardened hearts, our 
hunters turned from the spot where the un- 
moumed trapper met his death. La Bonte, how- 
ever, not yet entirely steeled by mountain life to 
a perfect indifference to human feeling, drew his 
hard hand across his eye, as the unbidden tear 
rose from his rough but kindly heart. He could 
not forget so soon the comrade he had lost; the 
companion in the hunt or over the cheerful camp- 
fire ; the narrator of many a tale of dangers past 
— of sufferings from hunger, cold, thirst, and un- 
tended wounds — of Indian perils, and other vicis- 
situdes. One tear dropped from the young 



128 IN THE OLD WEST 

hunter's eye, and rolled down his cheek — the last 
for many a long year. 

In the forks of the northern branch of the 
Platte, formed by the junction of the Laramie, 
they found a big village of the Sioux encamped 
near the station of one of the fur companies. 
Here the party broke up ; many, finding the alco- 
hol of the traders an impediment to their further 
progress, remained some time in the vicinity, while 
La Bonte, Luke, and a trapper named Marcelline, 
started in a few days to the mountains, to trap on 
Sweetwater and Medicine Bow. They had lei- 
sure, however, to observe all the rascalities con- 
nected with the Indian trade, although at this 
season (August) hardly commenced. However, a 
band of Indians having come in with several packs 
of last year's robes, and being anxious to start 
speedily on their return, a trader from one of the 
forts had erected his lodge in the village. 

Here he set to work immediately to induce the 
Indians to trade. First, a chief appoints three 
" soldiers " to guard the trader's lodge from intru- 
sion ; and these sentries amongst the thieving fra- 
ternity can be invariably trusted. Then the In- 
dians are invited to have a drink — a taste of the 
fire-water being given to all to incite them to trade. 
As the crowd presses upon the entrance to the 
lodge, and those in rear become impatient, some 
large-mouthed savage w^ho has received a portion 
of the spirit makes his way, with his mouth full 



IN THE OLD WEST 129 

of the liquor and cheeks distended, through the 
throng, and is instantly surrounded by his par- 
ticular friends. Drawing the face of each, by 
turns, near his own, he squirts a small quantity 
into his open mouth, until the supply is exhausted, 
when he returns for more, and repeats the gener- 
ous distribution. 

When paying for the robes, the traders, in 
measuring out the liquor in a tin half-pint cup, 
thrust their thumbs or the four fingers of the hand 
into the measure, in order that it may contain the 
less, or not unfrequently fill the bottom with melted 
buffalo fat, with the same object. So greedy 
are the Indians that they never discover the cheat, 
and, once under the influence of the liquor, cannot 
distinguish between the first cup of comparatively 
strong spirit, and the following ones diluted five 
hundred per cent., and poisonously drugged to 
boot. 

Scenes of drunkenness, riot, and bloodshed last 
until the trade is over. In the winter it occupies 
several weeks, during which period the Indians 
present the appearance, under the demoralizing 
influence of the liquor, of demons rather than of 
men. 



CHAPTER ly 

LA BONTE and his companions proceeded up 
the river, the Black Hills on their left hand, 
from which several small creeks or feeders 
swell the waters of the North Fork. Along these 
they hunted unsuccessfully for beaver sign, and 
it was evident the spring hunt had almost exter- 
minated the animal in this vicinity. Following 
Deer Creek to the ridge of the Black Hills, they 
crossed the mountain on to the waters of the Medi- 
cine Bow, and here they discovered a few lodges, 
and La Bonte set his first trap. He and old Luke 
finding cuttings near the camp, followed the sign 
along the bank, until the practiced eye of the 
latter discovered a slide, where the beaver had 
ascended the bank to chop the trunk of a cotton- 
wood, and convey the bark to its lodge. Taking a 
trap from his sack, the old hunter, after setting 
the trigger, placed it carefully under the water, 
where the slide entered the stream, securing the 
chain to the stem of a sapling on the bank; while 
a stick, also attached to the trap by a thong, 
floated down the stream, to mark the position of 
the trap should the animal carry it away. A little 

further on, and near another run, three traps were 
130 



IN THE OLD WEST 131 

set ; and over these Luke placed a little stick, 
which he first dipped into a mjsterious-looking 
phial containing his " medicine." * 

The next morning they visited the traps, and 
had the satisfaction of finding three fine beaver 
secured in the first three they visited, and the 
fourth, which had been carried away, they dis- 
covered by the float-stick a little distance down 
the stream, with a large drowned beaver between 
its teeth. 

The animals being carefully skinned, they re- 
turned to camp with the choicest portions of the 
meat, and the tails, on which they most luxuri- 
ously supped; and La Bonte was fain to confess 
that all his ideas of the superexcellence of buffalo 
were thrown in the shade by the delicious beaver- 
tail, the rich meat of which he was compelled to 
allow was " great eating," unsurpassed by tender- 
loin or " boudin," or other meat of whatever kind 
he had eaten of before. 

The country where La Bonte and his com- 
panions were trapping is very curiously situated 
in the extensive bend of the Platte which incloses 
the Black Hill range on the north, and which 
bounds the large expanse of broken tract known 
as the Laramie Plains, their southern limit being 
the base of the Medicine Bow Mountains. From 
the north-western comer of the bend, an incon- 

* A substance obtained from a gland in the scrotum of 
the beaver, and used to attract that animal to the trap. 



ISa IN THE OLD WEST 

siderable range extends to the westward, gradually 
increasing in height until it reaches an elevated 
plain, which forms a break in the stupendous chain 
of the Rocky Mountains, and affords the easy pas- 
sage now known as the Great, or South Pass. 
So gradual is the ascent of this portion of the 
mountain, that the traveler can scarcely believe 
he is crossing the dividing ridge between the waters 
which flow into the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, 
and that in a few minutes he can fling two sticks 
into two neighboring streams, one to be carried 
thousands of miles, traversed by the eastern waters 
in their course to the Gulf of Mexico, the other to 
be borne a lesser distance to the Gulf of California. 

The country is frequented by the Crows and 
Snakes, who are at perpetual war with the Shians 
and Sioux, following them often far down the 
Platte, where many bloody battles have taken 
place. The Crows are esteemed friendly to the 
whites ; but when on war expeditions, and " hair " 
their object, it is always dangerous to fall in with 
Indian war-parties, and particularly in the remote 
regions of the mountains, where they do not an- 
ticipate retaliation. 

Trapping with tolerable success in this vicinity, 
the hunters crossed over, as soon as the pre- 
monitory storms of approaching winter warned 
them to leave the mountains, to the waters of Green 
River, one of the affluents of the Colorado, intend- 
ing to winter at a rendezvous to be held in 



IN THE OLD WEST 133 

Brown's Hole — an inclosed valley so called — 
which, abounding in game, and sheltered on every 
side by lofty mountains, is a favorite wintering- 
ground of the mountaineers. Here they found 
several trapping bands already arrived; and a 
trader from the Uintah country, with store of 
powder, lead, and tobacco, prepared to ease them 
of their hard-earned peltries. 

Singly, and in bands numbering from two to 
ten, the trappers dropped into the rendezvous ; 
some with many pack-loads of beaver, others with 
greater or less quantity, and more than one on 
foot, having lost his animals and peltry by Indian 
thieving. Here were soon congregated many 
mountaineers, whose names are famous in the his- 
tory of the Far West. Fitzpatrick and Hatcher, 
and old Bill Williams, well-known leaders of trap- 
ping parties, soon arrived with their bands. 
Sublette came in with his men from Yellow Stone, 
and many of Wyeth's New Englanders were there. 
Chabonard with his half-breeds, Wah-keitchas all, 
brought his peltries from the lower country ; and 
half-a-dozen Shawanee and Delaware Indians, with 
a Mexican from Taos, one Marcelline, a fine strap- 
ping fellow, the best trapper and hunter in the 
mountains, and ever first in the fight. Here, too, 
arrived the " Bourgeois " traders of the " North- 
West " * Company, with their superior equipments, 

* The Hudson's Bay Company is so called by the Ameri- 
can trappers. 



134 IN THE OLD WEST 

ready to meet their trappers, and purchase the 
beaver at an equitable value; and soon the trade 
opened, and the encampment assumed a busy ap- 
pearance. 

A curious assemblage did the rendezvous pre- 
sent, and representatives of many a land met there. 
A son of la belle France here lit his pipe from one 
proffered by a native of New Mexico. An Eng- 
lishman and a Sandwich Islander cut a quid from 
the same plug of tobacco. A Swede and an old 
Virginian puffed together. A Shawanee blew a 
peaceful cloud with a scion of the Six Nations. 
One from the Land of Cakes — a canny chiel — 
sought to "great round" (in trade) a right 
" smart " Yankee, but couldn't " shine." 

The beaver went briskly, six dollars being the 
price paid per lb. in goods — for money is sel- 
dom given in the mountain market, where beaver 
is cash, for which the articles supplied by the 
traders are bartered. In a very short time pel- 
tries of every description had changed hands, 
either by trade, or by gambling with cards and 
betting. With the mountain-men bets decide 
every question that is raised, even the most trivial ; 
and if the editor of " Bell's Life " were to pay 
one of these rendezvous a winter visit, he would 
find the broad sheet of his paper hardly capacious 
enough to answer all the questions which would 
be referred to his decision. 

Before the winter was over. La Bonte had lost 



IN THE OLD WEST 135 

all traces of civilized humanity, and might justly 
claim to be considered as " hard a case " as any 
of the mountaineers then present. Long before 
the spring opened, he had lost all the produce of 
his hunt and both his animals, which, however, 
by a stroke of luck, he recovered, and wisely held 
on to for the future. Right glad when spring 
appeared, he started from Brown's Hole, with 
four companions, to hunt the Uintah or Snake 
country, and the affluents of the larger streams 
which rise in that region and fall into the Gulf 
of California. 

In the valley of the Bear River they found 
beaver abundant, and trapped their way west- 
ward until they came upon the famed locality of 
the Beer and Soda Springs — natural fountains 
of mineral water, renowned amongst the trappers 
as being " medicine " of the first order. 

Arriving one evening, about sundown, at the 
Bear Spring, they found a solitary trapper sit- 
ting over the rocky basin, intently regarding, 
with no little awe, the curious phenomenon of the 
bubbling gas. Behind him were piled his saddles 
and a pack of skins, and at a little distance a 
hobbled Indian pony fed amongst the cedars which 
formed a grove round the spring. As the three 
hunters dismounted from their animals, the lone 
trapper scarcely noticed their arrival, his eyes 
being still intently fixed upon the water. Look- 
ing round at last, he was instantly recognized 



136 IN THE OLD WEST 

by one of La Bonte's companions, and saluted 
as " Old Rube." Dressed from head to foot in 
buckskin, his face, neck, and hands appeared to 
be of the same leathery texture, so nearly did 
they assimilate in color to the materials of his 
dress. He was at least six feet two or three in 
his moccasins, straight-limbed and wiry, with 
long arms ending in hands of tremendous grasp, 
and a quantity of straight black hair hanging on 
his shoulders. His features, which were undeni- 
ably good, wore an expression of comical gravity, 
never relaxing into a smile, which a broad good- 
humored mouth could have grinned from ear to 
ear. 

" What, boys ! " he said, " will you be simple 
enough to camp here alongside these springs? 
Nothing good ever came of sleeping here, I tell 
you, and the worst kind of devils are in those 
dancing waters." 

" Why, old boss," cried La Bonte, " what 
brings you hyar then, and camp at that? " 

" This nigger," answered Rube, solemnly, 
'^ has been down'd upon a sight too often to be 
skeared by what can come out from them waters ; 
and thar am't a devil as hisses thar as can shine 
with this child, I tell you. I've tried him onest, 
an' font him to clawin' away to Eustis ; * and if 

* A small lake near the head-waters of the Yellow Stone, 
near which are some curious thermal springs of ink-black 
water. 



IN THE OLD WEST 137 

I draws my knife again on such varmint, I'll raise 
his hair, as sure as shootin'. " 

Spite of the reputed dangers of the locality, 
the trappers camped on the spot, and many a 
draught of the delicious sparkling water they 
quaffed in honor of the " medicine " of the fount. 
Rube, however, sat sulky and silent, his huge 
form bending over his legs, which were crossed, 
Indian fashion, under him, and his long bony 
fingers spread over the fire, which had been made 
handy to the spring. At last they elicited from 
him that he had sought this spot for the purpose 
of " making medicine,''^ having been persecuted 
by extraordinary ill-luck, even at this early period 
of his hunt — the Indians having stolen two out 
of his three animals, and three of his half-dozen 
traps. He had therefore sought the springs for 
the purpose of invoking the fountain spirits, 
which, a perfect Indian in his simple heart, he 
implicitly believed to inhabit their mysterious 
waters. When the others had, as he thought, 
fallen asleep. La Bonte observed the ill-starred 
trapper take from his pouch a curiously-carved 
red stone pipe, which he carefully charged with 
tobacco and kinnik-kinnik. Then approaching 
the spring, he walked three times round it, and 
gravely sat himself down. Striking fire with his 
flint and steel, he lit his pipe, and bending the 
stem three several times towards the water, he in- 
haled a vast quantity of smoke, and bending back 



138 IN THE OLD WEST 

his neck and looking upwards, puffed it into the 
air. He then blew another puff towards the four 
points of the compass, and emptying the pipe 
into his hand, cast the consecrated contents into 
the spring, saying a few Indian " medicine " 
words of cabalistic import. Having performed 
the ceremony to his satisfaction, he returned to 
the fire, smoked a pipe on his own hook, and 
turned into his buffalo-robe, conscious of having 
done a most important duty. 

In the course of their trapping expedition, and 
accompanied by Rube, who knew the country well, 
they passed near the Great Salt Lake, a vast in- 
land sea, whose salitrose waters cover an extent 
of upwards of one hundred and forty miles in 
length, by eighty in breadth. Fed by several 
streams, of which the Big Bear River is the most 
considerable, this lake presents the curious phe- 
nomenon of a vast body of water without any 
known outlet. According to the trappers, an is^ 
land, from which rises a chain of lofty mountains, 
nearly divides the north-western portion of the 
lake, whilst a smaller one, within twelve miles of 
the northern shore, rises six hundred feet from the 
level of the water. Rube declared to his compan- 
ions that the larger island was known by the In- 
dians to be inhabited by a race of giants, with 
whom no communication had ever been held by 
mortal man ; and but for the casual wafting to 
the shores of the lake of logs of gigantic trees, 



IN THE OLD WEST 139 

cut by axes of extraordinary size, the world would 
never have known that such a people existed. 
They were, moreover, white as themselves, and 
lived upon corn and fruits, and rode on ele- 
phants, &c. 

Whilst following a small creek at the south- 
west extremity of the lake, they came upon a band 
of miserable Indians, who, from the fact of their 
subsisting chiefly on roots, are called the Dig- 
gers. At first sight of the whites they immedi- 
ately fled from their wretched huts, and made 
towards the mountains ; but one of the trappers, 
galloping up on his horse, cut off* their retreat, 
and drove them like sheep before him back to their 
village. A few of these wretched creatures came 
into camp at sundown, and were regaled with such 
meat as the larder afforded. They appeared to 
have no other food in their village but bags of 
dried ants and their larvae, and a few roots of the 
3"ampah. Their huts were constructed of a few 
bushes of greasewood, piled up as a sort of wind- 
break, in which they huddled in their filthy skins. 
During the night they crawled up to the camp 
and stole two of the horses, and the next morning 
not a sign of them was visible. Now La Bonte 
witnessed a case of mountain law, and the practi- 
cal effects of the lex talionis of the Far West. 

The trail of the runaway Diggers bore to the 
north-west, or along the skirt of a barren water- 
less desert, which stretches far away from the 



140 IN THE OLD WEST 

southern shores of the Salt Lake to the borders 
of Upper California. La Bonte, with three 
others, determined to follow the thieves, recover 
their animals, and then rejoin the other two (Luke 
and Rube) on a creek two days' journey from 
their present camp. Starting at sunrise, they 
rode on at a rapid pace all day, closely follow- 
ing the trail, which led directly to the north-west, 
through a wretched sandy country, without game 
or water. From the appearance of the track, the 
Indians must still have been several hours ahead 
of them, when the fatigue of their horses, suffer- 
ing from want of grass and water, compelled them 
to camp near the head of a small water-course, 
where they luckily found a hole containing a little 
water, and whence a broad Indian trail passed, 
apparently frequently used. Long before day- 
light they were again in the saddle, and, after 
proceeding a few miles, saw the lights of several 
fires a short distance ahead of them. Halting 
here, one of the party advanced on foot to recon- 
noiter, and presently returned with the intelli- 
gence that the party they were in pursuit of had 
joined a village numbering thirty or forty huts. 

Loosening their girths, they permitted their 
tired animals to feed on the scanty herbage which 
presented itself, whilst they refreshed themselves 
with a pipe of tobacco — for they had no meat 
of any description with them, and the country 
afforded no game. As the first streak of dawn 



IN THE OLD WEST 141 

appeared in the east, they mounted their horses, 
after first examining their rifles, and moved cau- 
tiously towards the Indian village. As it was 
scarcely light enough for their operations, they 
waited behind a sandhill in the vicinity until ob- 
jects became more distinct; and then, emerging 
from their cover with loud war-whoops, they 
charged abreast into the midst of the village. 

As the frightened Indians were scarcely risen- 
from their beds, no opposition was given to the 
daring mountaineers, who, rushing upon the fly- 
ing crowd, discharged their rifles at close quar- 
ters, and then, springing from their horses, at- 
tacked them knife in hand, and only ceased the 
work of butchery when nine Indians lay dead 
upon the ground. All this time the women, half 
dead with fright, were huddled together on the 
ground, howling piteously ; and the mountaineers, 
advancing to them, whirled their lassos round 
their heads, and, throwing the open nooses into 
the midst, hauled out three of them, and securing 
their arms in the rope, bound them to a tree, 
and then proceeded to scalp the dead bodies. 
Whilst they were engaged in this work, an old 
Indian, withered and grisly, and hardly bigger 
than an ape, suddenly emerged from a rock, hold- 
ing in his left hand a bow and a handful of arrows, 
whilst one was already drawn to the head. Run- 
ning towards them, and almost before the hunters 
were aware of his presence, he discharged an 



142 IN THE OLD WEST 

arrow at a few yards' distance, which buried it- 
self in the ground not a foot from La Bonte's 
head as he bent over the body of the Indian he was 
scalping; and hardly had the whiz ceased, when 
whirr flew another, striking him in his right shoul- 
der. Before the Indian could fit a third arrow to 
his bow, La Bonte sprang upon him, seized him 
by the middle, and spinning his pigmy form round 
his head as easily as he would have twirled a toma- 
hawk, he threw him with tremendous force on the 
ground at the feet of one of his companions, who, 
stooping down, coolly thrust his knife into the 
Indian's breast, and quickly tore off his scalp. 

The slaughter over, without casting an eye to 
the captive squaws, the trappers proceeded to 
search the village for food, of which they stood 
much in need. Nothing, however, was found but 
a few bags of dried ants, which, after eating 
voraciously of, but with wry mouths, they threw 
aside, saying the food was worse than " poor 
(bull." They found, however, the animals they 
had been robbed of, and two more besides — 
wretched half-starved creatures ; and on these 
mounting their captives, they hurried away on 
their journey back to their companions, the dis- 
tance being computed at three days' travel from 
their present position. However, they thought, 
by taking a more direct course, they might find 
better pasture for their animals, and water, be- 
sides saving at least half a day by the short cut. 



IN THE OLD WEST 143 

To their cost, they proved the old saying, that 
" a short cut is always a long road," as will be 
presently shown. 

It has been said that from the south-western 
extremity of the Great Salt Lake a vast desert 
extends for hundreds of miles, unbroken by the 
slightest vegetation, destitute of game and water, 
and presenting a cheerless expanse of sandy plain 
or rugged mountain, thinly covered with dwarf 
pine or cedar, the only evidence of vegetable life. 
Into this desert, ignorant of the country, the 
trappers struck, intending to make their short 
cut; and, traveling on all day, were compelled to 
camp at night without water or pasture for their 
exhausted animals, and themselves ravenous with 
hunger and parched with thirst. The next day 
three of their animals gave out, and they were 
fain to leave them behind; but imagining that 
they must soon strike a creek, they pushed on 
until noon, but still no water presented itself, 
nor a sign of game of any description. The ani- 
mals were nearly exhausted, and a horse which 
could scarcely keep up with the slow pace of the 
others was killed, and its blood greedily drunk 
— a portion of the flesh being eaten raw, and a 
supply carried with them for future emergencies. 

The next morning two of the horses lay dead 
at their pickets, and one only remained, and this 
in such a miserable state that it could not possibly 
have traveled six miles further. It was there- 



IM IN THE OLD WEST 

fore killed, and its blood drunk, of which, how- 
ever, the captive squaws refused to partake. The 
men began to feel the effects of their consuming 
thirst, which the hot horse's blood only served to 
increase; their lips became parched and swollen, 
their eyes bloodshot, and a giddy sickness seized 
them at intervals. About mid-day they came in 
sight of a mountain on their right hand, which ap- 
peared to be more thickly clothed with vegetation ; 
and arguing from this that water would be found 
there, they left their course and made towards it, 
although some eight or ten miles distant. On ar- 
riving at the base, the most minute search failed 
to discover the slightest traces of water, and the 
vegetation merely consisted of dwarf pinon and 
cedar. With their sufferings increased by the 
exertion they had used in reaching the mountain, 
they once more sought the trail, but every step 
told on their exhausted frames. The sun was 
very powerful; the sand over which they flound- 
ered was deep and heavy ; and, to complete their 
sufferings, a high wind blew it in their faces, fill- 
ing their mouths and noses with its searching 
particles. 

Still they struggled onwards manfully, and not 
a murmur was heard until their hunger had en- 
tered the second stage upon the road to starva- 
tion. They had now been three days without 
food or water, under which privation nature can 
hardly sustain herself for a much longer period. 



IN THE OLD WEST 145 

On the fourth morning the men looked wolfish, 
their captives following behind in sullen and per- 
fect indifference, occasionally stooping down to 
catch a beetle if one presented itself, and greedily 
devouring it. A man named Forey,* a Canadian 
half-breed, was the first to complain. " If this 
lasted another sundown," he said, " some of them 
would be rubbed out; that meat had to be raised 
anyhow; and for his part, he knew where to look 
for a feed, if no game was seen before they put 
out of camp on the morrow; and meat was meat, 
anyhow they fixed it." 

No answer was made to this, though his com- 
panions well understood him: their natures as yet 
revolted against the last expedient. As for the 
three squaws, all of them young girls, they fol- 
lowed behind their captors without a word of 
complaint, and with the stoical indifference to 
pain and suffering which alike characterizes the 
haughty Delaware of the North and the miserable 
stunted Digger of the deserts of the Far West. 
On the morning of the fifth day the party were 
seated round a small fire of pinon, hardly able 
to rise and commence their journey, the squaws 
squatting over another at a little distance, when 
Forey commenced again to suggest that, if noth- 
ing offered, they must either take the alternative 
of starving to death — for they could not hope 
to last another day ' — or have recourse to the 

*Also known as Furey. (Ed.) 



146 IN THE OLD WEST 

revolting extremity of sacrificing one of the party 
to save the lives of all. To this, however, there 
was a murmur of dissent, and it was finally re- 
solved that all should sally out and hunt, for a 
deer-track had been discovered near the camp, 
which, although it was not a fresh one, proved 
that there must be game in the vicinity. Weak 
and exhausted as they were, they took their rifles 
and started for the neighboring uplands, each 
taking a different direction. 

It was nearly sunset when La Bonte returned 
to the camp, where he already espied one of his 
companions engaged in cooking something over 
the fire. Hurrying to the spot, overjoyed with 
the anticipations of a feast, he observed that the 
squaws were gone ; but, at the same time, thought 
it was not improbable they had escaped during 
their absence. Approaching the fire, he observed 
Forey broiling some meat on the embers, whilst 
at a little distance lay what he fancied was the 
carcass of a deer. 

" Hurrah, boy ! " he exclaimed, as he drew near 
the fire. " You've made a raise, I see." 

" Well, I have," rejoined the other, turning his 
meat with the point of his butcher-knife. 
*' There's the meat, boss — help yourself." 

La Bonte drew his knife from the scabbard, 
and approached the spot his companion was 
pointing to ; but what was his horror to see the 
yet quivering body of one of the Indian squaws, 



IN THE OLD WEST 147 

with a large portion of the flesh butchered from 
it, part of which Forey was already greedily de- 
vouring. The knife dropped from his hand, and 
his heart rose to his throat. 

The next day he and his companion struck the 
creek where Rube and the other trapper had 
agreed to await them, and found them in camp 
with plenty of meat, and about to start again on 
their hunt, having given up the others for lost. 
From the day they parted, nothing was ever 
heard of La Bonte's other two companions, who 
doubtless fell a prey to utter exhaustion, and 
were unable to return to the camp. And thus 
ended the Digger expedition. 

It may appear almost incredible that men hav- 
ing civilized blood in their veins could perpetrate 
such wanton and cold-blooded acts of aggression 
on the wretched Indians as that detailed above ; 
but it is fact that the mountaineers never lose 
an opportunity of slaughtering these miserable 
Diggers, and attacking their villages, often for 
the purpose of capturing women, whom they 
carry off, and not unfrequently sell to other 
tribes, or to each other. In these attacks neither 
sex nor age is spared; and your mountaineer has 
as little compunction in taking the life of an 
Indian woman, as he would have in sending his 
rifle-ball through the brain of a Crow or Black- 
foot warrior. 

La Bonte now found himself without animals. 



148 IN THE OLD WEST 

and fairly afoot; consequently nothing remained 
for him but to seek some of the trapping bands, 
and hire himself for the hunt. Luckily for him, 
he soon fell in with Roubideau, on his way to 
Uintah, and was supplied by him with a couple 
of animals; and thus equipped, he started again 
with a large band of trappers, who were going 
to hunt on the waters of Grand River and the 
Gila. Here they fell in with another nation of 
Indians, from which branch out the innumerable 
tribes inhabiting Northern Mexico and part of 
California. They were in general friendly, but 
lost no opportunity of stealing horses or any 
articles left lying about the camp. On one oc- 
casion, the trappers being camped on a northern 
affluent of the Gila, a volley of arrows was dis- 
charged amongst them, severely wounding one or 
two of the party as they sat round the camp-fires. 
The attack, however, was not renewed, and the 
next day the camp was moved further down the 
stream, where beaver was tolerably abundant. 
Before sundown a number of Indians made their 
appearance, and, making signs of peace, were ad- 
mitted into the camp. 

The trappers were all sitting at their suppers 
over the fires, the Indians looking gravely on, 
when it was remarked that now would be a good 
opportunity to retaliate upon them for the trouble 
their incessant attacks had entailed upon the 
camp. The suggestion was highly approved of. 



IN THE OLD WEST 149 

and instantly acted upon. Springing to their 
feet, the trappers seized their rifles, and com- 
menced the slaughter. The Indians, panic- 
struck, fled without resistance, and numbers fell 
before the death-dealing rifles of the mountain- 
eers. A chief, who had been sitting on a rock 
near the fire where the leader of the trappers sat, 
had been singled out by the latter as the first 
mark for his rifle. 

Placing the muzzle to his heart, he pulled the 
trigger, but the Indian, with extraordinary tenac- 
ity of life, rose and grappled with his assailant. 
The white was a tall powerful man, but notwith- 
standing the deadly wound the Indian had re- 
ceived, he had his equal in strength to contend 
against. The naked form of the Indian twisted 
and writhed in his grasp as he sought to avoid 
the trapper's uplifted knife. Many of the lat- 
ter's companions advanced to administer the coup- 
de-grace to the savage, but the trapper cried to 
them to keep off^: " If he couldn't whip the Injun," 
he said " he'd go under." 

At length he succeeded in throwing him, and, 
plunging his knife no less than seven times into 
his body, he tore off^ his scalp, and went in pursuit 
of the flying savages. In the course of an hour 
or two all the party returned, and, sitting by the 
fires, resumed their suppers, which had been in- 
terrupted in the manner just described. Walker, 
the captain of the band, sat down by the fire where 



150 IN THE OLD WEST 

he had been engaged in the struggle with the In- 
dian chief, whose body was lying within a few 
paces of it. He was in the act of fighting the bat- 
tle over again to one of his companions, and was 
saying that the Indian had as much life in him 
as a buffalo bull, when, to the horror of all pres- 
ent, the savage, who had received wounds sufficient 
for twenty deaths, suddenly rose to a sitting pos- 
ture, the fire shedding a glowing light upon the 
horrid spectacle. The face was a mass of clotted 
blood, which flowed from the lacerated scalp, whilst 
gouts of blood streamed from eight gaping wounds 
in the naked breast. 

Slowly this frightful figure rose to a sitting pos- 
ture, and, bending slowly forward to the fire, the 
mouth was seen to open wide, and a hollow gurgling 
— owg-h-h — broke from it. 

" H — 1 " exclaimed the trapper — and jumping 
up, he placed a pistol to the ghastly head, the eyes 
of which sternly fixed themselves on his, and, pull- 
ing the trigger, blew the poor wretch's skull to 
atoms. 

The Gila passes through a barren sandy coun- 
try, with but little game, and sparsely inhabited 
by several different tribes of the great nation of 
the Apache. Unlike the rivers of this western re- 
gion, this stream is, in most parts of its course, 
particularly towards its upper waters, entirely 
bare of timber, and the bottom, through which it 
runs, affords but little of the coarsest grass. 



IN THE OLD WEST 151 

Whilst on this stream, the trapping party lost 
several animals for want of pasture, and many 
more from the predatory attacks of the cunning 
Indians. These losses, however, they invariably 
made good whenever they encountered a native 
village — taking care, moreover, to repay them- 
selves with interest whenever occasion offered. 

Notwithstanding the sterile nature of the coun- 
try, the trappers, during their passage up the 
Gila, saw with astonishment that the arid and bar- 
ren valley had once been peopled by a race of men 
far superior to the present nomad tribes who 
roam over it. With no little awe they gazed upon 
the ruined walls of large cities, and the remains 
of houses, with their ponderous beams and joists, 
still testifying to the skill and industry with which 
they were constructed: huge ditches and irrigat- 
ing canals, now filled with rank vegetation, fur- 
rowed the plains in the vicinity, marking the spot 
where once green waving maize and smiling gar- 
dens covered what now is a bare and sandy desert. 
Pieces of broken pottery, of domestic utensils, 
stained with bright colors, everywhere strewed the 
ground; and spear and arrow heads of stone, and 
quaintly-carved idols, and women's ornaments of 
agate and obsidian, were picked up often by the 
wondering trappers, examined with childlike curi- 
osity, and thrown carelessly aside.* 

* The Aztecs are supposed to have built this city during 
their migration to the south: there is little doubt, however, 



152 IN THE OLD WEST 

A Taos Indian, who was amongst the band, was 
evidently impressed with a melancholy awe as he 
regarded these ancient monuments of his fallen 
people. At midnight he rose from his blanket 
and left the camp, which was in the vicinity of the 
ruined city, stealthily picking his way through 
the line of slumbering forms which lay around; 
and the watchful sentinel observed him approach 
the ruins with a slow and reverential gait. En- 
tering the moldering walls, he gazed silently 
around, where in ages past his ancestors trod 
proudly, a civilized race, the tradition of which, 
well known to his people, served but to make their 
present degraded position more galling and ap- 
parent. Cowering under the shadow of a crum- 
bling wall, the Indian drew his blanket over his^ 
head, and conjured to his mind's eye the former 
power and grandeur of his race — that warlike 
people who, forsaking their own country for 
causes o-f which no tradition, however dim, now 
exists, sought in the fruitful and teeming valleys 
of the south a soil and climate which their own 
lands did not afford, and, displacing the wild 
and barbarous hordes inhabiting the land, raised 
there a mighty empire, great in riches and civiliza- 
tion. 

The Indian bowed his head, and mourned the 

but that the region extending from the Gila to the Great 
Salt Lake, and embracing the province of New Mexico, was 
the locality from which they emigrated. 



IN THE OLD WEST 153 

fallen greatness of his tribe. Rising, he slowly 
drew his tattered blanket round his body, and pre- 
pared to leave the spot, when the shadow of a mov- 
ing figure, creeping past a gap in the ruined wall 
through which the moonbeams played, suddenly 
arrested his attention. Rigid as a statue, he 
stood transfixed to the spot, thinking a former 
inhabitant of the city was visiting, in a ghostly 
form, the scenes his body once knew so well. The 
bow in his right hand shook with fear as he saw 
the shadow approach, but was as tightly and 
steadily grasped when, on the figure emerging 
from the shade of the wall, he distinguished the 
form of a naked Apache, armed with bow and 
arrow, crawling stealthily through the gloomy 
ruins. 

Standing undiscovered within the shadow of 
the wall, the Taos raised his bow, and drew an ar- 
row to the head, until the other, who was bend- 
ing low to keep under cover of the wall, and thus 
approach the sentinel standing at a short dis- 
tance, seeing suddenly the well-defined shadow on 
the ground, rose upright on his legs, and, know- 
ing escape was impossible, threw his arms down 
his sides, and, drawing himself erect, exclaimed 
in a suppressed tone, " Wa-g-h ! " 

*' Wagh ! " exclaimed the Taos likewise, but 
quickly dropped his arrow point, and eased the 
bow. 

" What does my brother want," he asked, '* that 



154 IN THE OLD WEST 

he lopes like a wolf round the fires of the white 
hunters ? " 

"Is my brother's skin not red?" returned the 
Apache, " and yet he asks question that needs no 
answer. Why does the medicine-wolf follow the 
buffalo and deer? For blood — and for blood 
the Indian follows the treacherous white from 
camp to camp, to strike blow for blow, until the 
deaths of those so basely killed are fully avenged." 

" My brother speaks Trith a big heart, and his 
words are true ; and though the Taos and Pimo 
(Apache) black their faces towards each other 
(are at war), here, on the graves of their com- 
mon fathers, there is peace between them. Let 
my brother go." 

The Apache moved quickly away, and the Taos 
on-ce more sought the camp-fires of his white com- 
panions. 

Following the course of the Gila to the east- 
ward, they crossed a range of the Sierra Madre, 
which is a continuation of the Rocky Mountains, 
and struck the waters of the Rio del Norte below 
the settlements of New Mexico. On this stream 
they fared well ; besides trapping a great quantity 
of beaver, game of all kinds abounded, and the 
bluff^s near the well-timbered banks of the river 
were covered with rich gramma grass, on which 
their half-starved animals speedily improved in 
condition. 

They remained for some weeks encamped on the 



IN THE OLD WEST 155 

right bank of the stream, during which period 
they lost one of their number, shot with an ar- 
row whilst lying asleep within a few feet of the 
camp-fire. 

The Navajos continually prowl along that por- 
tion of the river which runs through the settle- 
ments of New MexicQ, preying upon the cowardly 
inhabitants, and running off with their cattle 
whenever they are exposed in sufficient numbers to 
tempt them. Whilst ascending the river, the trap- 
pers met a party of these Indians returning to 
their mountain homes with a large band of mules 
and horses, which they had taken from one of the 
Mexican towns, besides several women and chil- 
dren, whom they had captured as slaves. The 
main body of the trappers halting, ten of the 
band followed and charged upon the Indians who 
numbered at least sixty, killed seven of them, and 
retook the prisoners and the whole cavallada of 
horses and mules. Great were the rejoicings 
when they entered Socorro, the town whence the 
women and children had been taken, and as loud 
the remonstrances when, handing them over to 
their families, the trappers rode on, driving fifty 
of the best of the rescued animals before them, 
which they retained as payment for their services. 
Messengers were sent on to Albuquerque with in- 
telligence of the proceeding; and as troops were 
stationed there, the commandant was applied to, 
to chastise the insolent whites. 



156 IN THE OLD WEST 

That warrior, on learning that the trappers 
numbered less than fifteen, became alarmingly 
brave, and ordering out the whole of his dispos- 
able force, some two hundred dragoons, sallied 
out to intercept the audacious mountaineers. 
About noon one day, just as the latter had 
emerged from a little town between Socorro and 
Albuquerque, they descried the imposing force of 
the dragoons winding along a plain ahead. As 
the trappers advanced, the officer in command 
halted his men, and sent out a trumpeter to order 
the former to await his coming. Treating the 
herald to a roar of laughter, on they went, and, as 
they approached the soldiers, broke into a trot, 
ten of the number forming line in front of the 
packed and loose animals, and, rifle in hand, charg- 
ing with loud whoops. This was enough for the 
New Mexicans. Before the enemy were within 
shooting distance the gallant fellows turned tail, 
and splashed into the river, dragging themselves 
up the opposite bank like half-drowned rats, and 
saluted with loud peals of laughter by the victo- 
rious mountaineers, who, firing a volley into the 
air in token of supreme contempt, quietly con- 
tinued their route up the stream. 

Before reaching the capital of the province 
they struck again to the westward, and, following 
a small creek to its junction with the Green River, 
ascended that stream, trapping en route to the 
Uintah or Snake Fork, and arrived at Roubideau's 



IN THE OLD WEST 157 

rendezvous early in the fall, where they quickly 
disposed of their peltries, and were once more on 
" the loose." 

Here La Bonte married a Snake squaw, with 
whom he crossed the mountains and proceeded to 
the Platte through the Bayou Salade, where he pur- 
chased of the Yutas, a commodious lodge, with the 
necessary poles, &c. ; and being now rich in mules 
and horses, and in all things necessary for otium 
cum dignitate, he took unto himself another wife, 
as by mountain law allowed; and thus equipped, 
with both his better halves attired in all the glory 
of " f of arraw," he went his way rej oicing. 

In a snug little valley lying under the shadow 
of the mountains, watered by Vermilion Creek, and 
in which abundance of buffalo, elk, deer, and ante- 
lope fed and fattened on the rich grass, La Bonte 
raised his lodge, employing himself in hunting, 
and fully occupying his wives' time in dressing 
the skins of the many animals he killed. Here he 
enjoyed himself amazingly until the commence- 
ment of winter, when he determined to cross to the 
North Fork and trade his skins, of which he had 
now as many packs as his animals could carry. 
It happened that he one day left his camp, to 
spend a couple of days hunting buffalo in the 
mountains, whither the bulls were now resorting, 
intending to " put out " for Platte on his return. 
His hunt, however, led him farther into the moun- 
tains than he anticipated, and it was only on the 



158 IN THE OLD WEST 

third day that sundown saw him enter the little 
valley where his camp was situated. 

Crossing the creek, he was not a little disturbed 
at seeing fresh Indian sign on the opposite side, 
which led in the direction of his lodge; and his 
worst fears were realized when, on coming within 
sight of the little plateau where the conical top 
of his white lodge had always before met his view, 
he saw nothing but a blackened mass strewing the 
ground, and the burnt ends of the poles which had 
once supported it. 

Squaws, animals, and peltry, all were gone — ' 
an Arapaho moccasin lying on the ground told 
him where. He neither fumed nor fretted, but, 
throwing the meat off his pack animal, and the 
saddle from his horse, he collected the black- 
ened ends of the lodge poles and made a fire — 
led his beasts to water and hobbled them, threw 
a piece of buffalo-meat upon the coals, squatted 
down before the fire, and lit his pipe. La Bonte 
was a true philosopher. Notwithstanding that 
his house, his squaws, his peltries, were gone at 
one fell swoop, the loss scarcely disturbed his 
equanimity ; and before the tobacco in his pipe was 
half smoked out, he had ceased to think of his 
misfortune. Certes, as he turned his apolla of 
tenderloin, he sighed as he thought of the deli- 
cate manipulations with which his Shoshone squaw, 
Sah-qua-manish, was wont to beat to tenderness 
the toughest bull meat — and missed the tending 



IN THE OLD WEST 159 

care of Yute Chil-co-the, or the "Reed that 
Bends," in patching the holes worn in his neatly- 
fitting moccasins, the work of her nimble fingers. 
However, he ate and smoked, and smoked and ate, 
and slept none the worse for his mishap ; thought, 
before he closed his eyes, a little of his lost wives, 
and more perhaps of the " Bending Reed " than 
of Sah-qua-manish, or " She Who Runs with the 
Stream " — drew his blanket tightly round him, 
felt his rifle handy to his grasp, and was speedily 
asleep. 

Whilst the tired mountaineer breathes heavily 
in his dream, careless and unconscious that a liv- 
ing soul is near, his mule on a sudden pricks her 
ears and stares into the gloom, whence a figure 
soon emerges, and with noiseless steps draws near 
the sleeping hunter. Taking one look at the 
slumbering form, the same figure approaches the 
fire and adds a log to the pile; which done, it 
quietly seats itself at the feet of the sleeper, and 
remains motionless as a statue. 

Towards morning the hunter awoke, and, rub- 
bing his eyes, was astonished to feel the glowing 
warmth of the fire striking on his naked feet, 
which, in Indian fashion, were stretched towards 
it ; as by this time, he knew, the fire he left burning 
must long since have expired. Lazily raising him- 
self on his elbow, he saw a figure sitting near it 
with the back turned to him, which, although his 
exclamatory wagh was loud enough in all con- 



160 IN THE OLD WEST 

science, remained perfectly motionless, until the 
trapper, rising, placed his hand upon the shoul- 
der: then, turning up its face, the features dis- 
played to his wondering eye were those of Chil-co- 
the, his Yuta wife. Yes, indeed, the " Bending 
Reed " had escaped from her Arapaho captors, 
and made her way back to her white husband, fast- 
ing and alone. 

The Indian women who follow the fortunes of 
the white hunters are remarkable for their affec- 
tion and fidelity to their husbands, the which vir- 
tues, it must be remarked, are all on their own 
side ; for, with very few exceptions, the mountain- 
eers seldom scruple to abandon their Indian wives 
whenever the fancy takes them to change their 
harems ; and on such occasions the squaws, thus 
cast aside, wild with jealousy and despair, have 
been not unfrequently known to take signal venge- 
ance both on their faithless husbands and on 
the successful beauties who have supplanted them 
in their affections. There are some honorable ex- 
ceptions, however, to such cruelty, and many of 
the mountaineers stick to their red-skinned wives 
for better and for worse, often suffering them to 
gain the upper hand in the domestic economy of 
the lodges, and being ruled by their better halves 
in all things pertaining to family affairs ; and 
it may be remarked that, when once the lady dons 
the unmentionables, she becomes the veriest ter- 
magant that ever henpecked an unfortunate hus- 



IN THE Ol.T> WEST 161 

band. Your refined trappers, however, who, after 
many years of bachelor life, incline to take to 
theixiselves a better half, often undertake an ex- 
pedition into the settlements of New Mexico, where 
not unfrequently they adopt a Young Lochinvar 
system in procuring the required rib, and have 
been known to carry off vi et armis, from the midst 
of a fandango in Fernandez or El Rancho of Taos, 
some dark-skinned beauty — with or without her 
own consent is a matter of unconcern — and bear 
the ravished fair one across the mountains, where 
she soon becomes inured to the free and roving 
life fate has assigned her. 

American women are valued at a low figure in 
the mountains. They are too fine and " fofar- 
raw." Neither can they make moccasins, or dress 
skins ; nor are they so schooled to perfect obedience 
to their lords and masters as to stand a " lodge- 
poling," which the western lords of the creation 
not unfrequently deem it their bounden duty to 
inflict upon their squaws for some dereliction of 
domestic duty. 

To return, however, to La Bonte. That worthy 
thought himself a lucky man to have lost but one 
of his wives, and she the worst of the two. 
" Here's the beauty," he philosophized, " of hav- 
ing two wiping-sticks to your rifle; if one breaks 
whilst ramming down a ball, there's still hickory 
left to supply its place." Although, with ani- 
mals and peltry, he had lost several hundred dol- 



162 IN THE OLD WEST 

lars' worth oJ " possibles," he never groaned or 
grumbled. " There's redskin will pay for this," 
he once muttered, and was done. 

Packing all that was left on the mule, and 
mounting Chil-co-the on his buffalo horse, he shoul- 
dered his rifle and stiTick the Indian trail for 
Platte. On Horse Creek they came upon a party 
of French * trappers and hunters, who were en- 
camped with their lodges and Indian squaws, and 
formed quite a village. Several old companions 
were amongst them ; and, to celebrate the arrival 
of a " camarade," a splendid dog-feast was pre- 
pared in honor of the event. To effect this, the 
squaws sallied out of their lodges to seize upon 
sundry of the younger and plumper of the pack, 
to fill the kettles for the approaching feast. With 
a presentiment of the fate in store for them, the 
curs slunk away with tails between their legs, and 
declined the pressing invitations of the anxious 
squaws. These shouldered their tomahawks and 
gave chase; but the cunning pups outstripped 
them, and w^ould have fairly beaten the kettles, if 
some of the mountaineers had not stepped out with 
their rifles, and quickly laid half-a-dozen ready to 
the knife. A cayeute, attracted by the scent of 
blood, drew near, unwitting of the canine feast in 
progress, and was likewise soon made dog of, and 
thrust into the boiling kettle with the rest. 

* Creoles of St. Louis, and French Canadians. 



IN THE OLD WEST 163 

The feast that night was long protracted ; and 
so savory was the stew, and so agreeable to the 
palates of the hungry hunters, that at the moment 
the last morsel was drawn from the pot, when all 
were regretting that a few more dogs had not been 
slaughtered, a wolfish-looking cur, who incautiously 
poked his long nose and head under the lodge skin, 
was pounced upon by the nearest hunter, who in 
a moment drew his knife across the animal's throat, 
and threw it to a squaw to skin and prepare for 
the pot. The wolf had long since been vigorously 
discussed, and voted by all hands to be " good as 
dog." 

" Meat's meat," is a common saying in the moun- 
tains, and from the buffalo down to the rattle- 
snake, including every quadruped that runs, every 
fowl that flies, and every reptile that creeps, noth- 
ing comes amiss to the mountaineer. Throwing 
aside all the qualms and conscientious scruples of 
a fastidious stomach, it must be confessed that 
dog-meat takes a high rank in the wonderful vari- 
ety of cuisine afforded to the gourmand and the 
gourmet by the prolific mountains. Now, when 
the bill of fare offers such tempting viands as buf- 
falo-beef, venison, mountain mutton, turkey, 
grouse, wild-fowl, hares, rabbits, beaver and their 
tails, &c., &c., the station assigned to dog as No. 
2 in the list can be well appreciated — No^J^^jn 
delicacy of flavor, richness of meat, and other 



164 IN THE OLD WEST 

good qualities, being the flesh of panthers, which 
surpasses every other, and all put together.* 

" Painter meat can't ' shine ' with this," says 
a hunter, to express the delicious flavor of an 
extraordinary cut of tenderloin or delicate 
fleece. 

La Bonte started with his squaw for the North 
Fork early in November, and arrived at the Lara- 
mie at the moment that the big village of the Sioux 
came up for their winter trade. Two other vil- 
lages were encamped lower down the Platte, in- 
cluding the Brules and the Yanka-taus, who were 
now on more friendly terms with the whites. The 
first band numbered several hundred lodges, and 
presented quite an imposing appearance, the vil- 
lage being laid out in parallel lines, the lodge of 
each chief being marked with his particular totem. 
The traders had a particular portion of the vil- 
lage allotted to them, and a line was marked out, 
which was strictl}^ kept by the soldiers appointed 
for the protection of the whites. As there were 
many rival traders, and numerous coureurs des 
hois, or peddling ones, the market promised to be 
brisk, the more so as a large quantity of ardent 
spirits was in their possession, which would be 
dealt with no unsparing hand to put down the 
opposition of so many competing traders. 

In opening a trade, a quantity of liquor is first 

*The excellence of panther meat is praised by Hart 
Merriam in his "Mammals of the Adirondacks." (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 165 

given " on the prairie," * as the Indians express 
it in words, or by signs in rubbing the palm of one 
hand quickly across the other, holding both flat. 
Having once tasted the pernicious liquid, there is 
no fear but they will quickly come to terms ; and 
not unfrequently the spirit is drugged, to render 
the unfortunate Indians still more helpless. Some- 
times, maddened and infuriated by drink, they com- 
mit the most horrid atrocities on each other, mur- 
dering and mutilating in a barbarous manner, and 
often attempting the lives of the traders them- 
selves. On one occasion a band of Sioux, whilst 
under the influence of liquor, attacked and took 
possession of a trading fort of the American Fur 
Company, stripping it of everything it contained, 
and roasting the trader himself over his own fire. 

The principle on which the nefarious trade is 
conducted is this, — that the Indians, possessing 
a certain quantity of buff^alo-robes, have to be 
cheated out of them, and the sooner the better. 
Although it is explicitly prohibited by the laws 
of the United States to convey spirits across the 
Indian frontier, and its introduction amongst the 
Indian tribes subjects the off*ender to a heavy 
penalty, yet the infraction of this law is of daily 
occurrence, perpetrated almost in the very pres- 
ence of the Government officers, who are stationed 
along the frontier for the purpose of enforcing the 
laws for the protection of the Indians. 

* " On the prairie " is the Indian term for a free gift. 



166 IN THE OLD WEST 

The misery entailed upon these unhappy people 
by the illicit traffic must be seen to be fully appre- 
ciated. Before the effects of the poisonous " fire- 
water," they disappear from the earth like snow 
before the sun. Although aware of the destruction 
it entails upon them, the poor wretches have not 
moral courage to shun the fatal allurement it 
holds out to them of wild excitement and a tem- 
porary oblivion of their many sufferings and priva- 
tions. With such palpable effects, it appears 
only likely that the illegal trade is connived at by 
those whose policy it has ever been, gradually, but 
surely, to exterminate the Indians, and by any 
means to extinguish their title to the few lands 
they now own on the outskirts of civilization. 
Certain it is that large quantities of liquor find 
their way annually into the Indian country, and 
as certain are the fatal results of the pernicious 
system, and that the American Government takes 
no steps to prevent it.* There are some tribes 
who have as yet withstood the great temptation, 
and have resolutely refused to permit liquor to 
be brought into their villages. The marked dif- 
ference between the improved condition of these, 
and the moral and physical abasement of those 
which give way to the fatal passion for drinking, 

* This is an exaggeration. The laws against sale of 
liquor to the Indians were strict, and the chief difficulty of 
the fur companies was to evade Government agents who 
searched their outbound cargoes and often made seizures. 
Still, there doubtless was much collusion. (Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 167 

sufficiently proves the pernicious effects of the 
liquor-trade on the unfortunate and abused abo- 
rigines ; and it is matter of regret that no philan- 
thropist has sprung up in the United States to 
do battle for the rights of the Red Men, and call 
attention to the wrongs they endure at the hands 
of their supplanters in the lands of their fathers. 

Robbed of their homes and hunting-grounds, 
and driven by the encroachments of the whites to 
distant regions, which hardly support existence, 
the Indians, day by day, gradually decrease be- 
fore the accumulating evils of body and soul, 
which their civilized persecutors entail upon 
them. With every man's hand against them, they 
drag on to their final destiny ; and the day is not 
far distant when the American Indian will exist 
only in the traditions of his pale-faced conquerors. 

The Indians trading at this time on the Platte 
were mostly of the Sioux nation, including the 
tribes of Burnt-woods, Yanka-taus, Pian-Kashas, 
Assinaboins, Oglallahs, Broken Arrows, all of 
which belong to the great Sioux nation, or La- 
cotahs, as they call themselves, and which means 
Cut-throats. There were also some Cheyennes 
allied to the Sioux, as well as a small band of 
Republican Pawnees. 

Horse-racing, gambling, and ball-play served 
to pass away the time until the trade commenced, 
and many packs of dressed robes changed hands 
amongst themselves. When playing at the usual 



1681 IN THE OLD WEST 

game of " hand," the stakes, comprising all the 
valuables the players possess, are piled in two 
heaps close at hand, the winner at the conclusion 
of the game sweeping the goods towards him, and 
often returning a small portion " on the prairie," 
with which the loser may again commence opera- 
tions with another player. 

The game of " hand " is played by two per- 
sons. One, who commences, places a plum or 
cherry stone in the hollow formed by joining the 
concaved palms of the hands together ; then, shak- 
ing the stone for a few moments, the hands are 
suddenly separated, and the other player must 
guess which hand now contains the stone. 

Large bets are often w^age-red on the result of 
this favorite game, which is also often played by 
the squaws, the men standing round encouraging 
them to bet, and laughing loudly at their gro- 
tesque excitement. 

A Burnt-wood Sioux, Tah-tunganisha, one of 
the bravest chiefs of his tribe, was out, when a 
young man, on a solitary war expedition against 
the Crows. One evening he drew near a certain 
" medicine " spring, where, to his astonishment, he 
encountered a Crow warrior in the act of quench- 
ing his thirst. He was on the point of drawing 
his bow upon him, when he remembered the sacred 
nature of the spot, and making the sign of peace, 
he fearlessly drew near his foe, and proceeded 
likewise to slake his thirst. A pipe of kinnik- 



IN THE OLD WEST 169 

kinnik being produced, it was proposed to pass 
away the early part of the night in a game of 
" hand." They accordingly sat down beside the 
spring and commenced the game. 

Fortune favored the Crow. He won arrow 
after arrow from the Burnt-wood brave ; then his 
bow, his club, his knife, his robe, all followed, and 
the Sioux sat naked on the plain. Still he pro- 
posed another stake against the other's winnings 
— his scalp. He played and lost ; and bending 
forward his head, the Crow warrior drew his knife 
and quickly removed the bleeding prize. With- 
out a murmur the luckless Sioux rose to depart, 
but first exacted a promise from his antagonist 
that he would meet him once more at the same 
spot, and engage in another trial of skill. 

On the day appointed, the Burnt-wood sought 
the spot, with a new equipment, and again the 
Crow made his appearance, and they sat down to 
play. This time fortune changed sides ; the 
Sioux won back his former losses, and in his turn 
the Crow was stripped to his skin. 

Scalp against scalp was now the stake, and this 
time the Crow submitted his head to the victo- 
rious Burnt-wood's knife; and both the warriors 
stood scalpless on the plain. 

And now the Crow had but one single stake of 
value to offer, and the offer of it he did not hesi- 
tate to make. He staked his life against the 
other's winnings. They played; and fortune still 



170 IN THE OLD WEST 

being adverse, he lost. He offered his breast to 
his adversary. The Burnt-wood plunged his knife 
into his heart to the very hilt; and, laden with 
his spoils, returned to his village, and to this 
day wears suspended from his ears his own and 
his enemy's scalp. 

The village presented the usual scene of con- 
fusion as long as the trade lasted. Fighting, 
brawling, yelling, dancing, and all the concomi- 
tants of intoxication, continued to the last drop 
of the liquor-keg, when the reaction after such ex- 
citement was almost worse than the evil itself. 
During this time all the work devolved upon the 
squaws, who, in tending the horses, and in pack- 
ing wood and w^ater from a long distance, had 
their time sufficiently occupied. As there was 
little or no grass in the vicinity, the animals were 
supported entirely on the bark of the cottonwood ; 
and to procure this, the women were daily en- 
gaged in felling huge trees, or climbing them fear- 
lessly, chopping off the upper limbs — springing 
like squirrels from branch to branch, which, in 
their confined costume, appeared matter of con- 
siderable difficulty. 

The most laughter-provoking scenes, however, 
were, when a number of squaws sallied out to the 
grove with their long-nosed wolfish-looking dogs 
harnessed to their travees * or trabogans, on 
which loads of cottonwood were piled. The dogs, 

*Travois. {Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 171 

knowing full well the duty required of them, 
refuse to approach the coaxing squaws, and, at 
the same time, are fearful of provoking their an- 
ger by escaping and running off. They, there- 
fore, squat on their haunches, with tongues hang- 
ing out of their long mouths, the picture of in- 
decision, removing a short distance as the irate 
squaw approaches. When once harnessed to the 
travee, however, which is simply a couple of lodge- 
poles lashed on either side of the dog, with a 
couple of cross-bars near the ends ta support 
the freight, they follow quietly enough, urged by 
bevies of children who invariably accompany the 
women. Once arrived at the scene of their labors, 
the reluctance of the curs to draw near the piles 
of Cottonwood is most comical. They will lie 
down stubbornly at a little distance, whining their 
uneasiness, or sometimes scamper off bodily, with 
their long poles trailing after them, pursued by 
the yelling and half-frantic squaws. 

When the travees are laden, the squaws, bent 
double under loads of wood sufficient to break a 
porter's back, and calling to the dogs, which are 
urged on by the buffalo-fed urchins in rear, lead 
the line of march. The curs, taking advantage 
of the helpless state of their mistresses, turn a 
deaf ear to their coaxings, lying down every few 
yards to rest, growling and fighting with each 
other, in which encounters every cur joins the 
melee, charging pell-mell into the yelping throng. 



172 IN THE OLD WEST 

upsetting the squalling children, and making con- 
fusion worse confounded. Then, armed with 
lodge-poles, the squaws, throwing dov^n their 
loads, rush to the rescue, dealing stalwart blows 
on the pugnacious curs, and finally restoring some- 
thing like order to the march. 

" Tszoo — tszoo ! " they cry, " wah, kashne, 
ceitcha — get on, you devilish beasts — tszoo — 
tszoo ! " and belaboring them without mercy, they 
start them into a gallop, wliich, once commenced, 
is generally continued till they reach their desti- 
nation. 

The Indian dogs are, however, invariably well 
treated by the squaws, since they assist materially 
the everyday labors of these patient overworked 
creatures, in hauling firewood to the lodge, and, 
on the line of march, carrying many of the house- 
hold goods and chattels, which otherwise the 
squaw herself would have to carry on her back. 
Every lodge possesses from half-a-dozen to a 
score, — some for draught and others for eating 
— for dog-meat forms part and parcel of an 
Indian feast. The former are stout wiry animals, 
half wolf half sheep-dog, and are regularly trained 
to draught; the latter are of a smaller kind, more 
inclined to fat, and embrace every variety of the 
genus cur. Many of the southern tribes possess 
a breed of dogs entirely divested of hair, which 
evidently have come from South America, and are 
highly esteemed for the kettle. Their meat, in 



IN THE OLD WEST 173 

appearance and flavor, resembles young pork, but 
far surpasses it in richness and delicacy. 

The Sioux are very expert in making their 
lodges comfortable, taking more pains in their 
construction than most Indians. They are all of 
conical form: a framework of straight slender 
poles, resembling hop-poles, and from twenty to 
twenty-five feet long, is first erected, round which 
is stretched a sheeting of buffalo-robes, softly 
dressed, and smoked to render them water-tight. 
The apex, through which the ends of the poles 
protrude, is left open to allow the smoke to es- 
cape. A small opening, sufficient to permit the 
entrance of a man, is made on one side, over 
which is hung a door of buflTalo-hide. A lodge 
of the common size contains about twelve or four- 
teen skins, and contains comfortably a family of 
twelve in number. The fire is made in the center, 
immediately under the aperture in the roof, and 
a flap of the upper skins is closed or extended at 
pleasure, serving as a cowl or chimney-top to 
regulate the draught and permit the smoke to 
escape freely. Round the fire, with their feet 
towards it, the inmates sleep on skins and buf- 
falo-rugs, which are rolled up during the day, 
and stowed at the back of the lodge. 

In traveling, the lodge-poles are secured half 
on each side a horse, and the skins placed on 
transversal bars near th^ ends, which trail along 
the ground — two or three squaws or children 



174« IN THE OLD WEST 

mounted on the same horse, or the smallest of the 
latter borne in the dog travees. A set of lodge- 
poles will last from three to seven years, unless 
the village is constantly on the move, when they 
are soon worn out in trailing over the gravelly 
prairie. They are usually of ash, which grows 
on many of the mountain creeks, and regular ex- 
peditions are undertaken when a supply is re- 
quired, either for their own lodges, or for trading 
with those tribes who inhabit the prairies at a 
great distance from the locality where the poles 
are procured. 

There are also certain creeks where the Indians 
resort to lay in a store of kinnik-kinnik (the inner 
bark of the red willow),* which they use as a 
substitute for tobacco, and which has an aro- 
matic and very pungent flavor. It is prepared for 
smoking by being scraped in thin curly flakes from 
the slender saplings, and crisped before the fire, 
after which it is rubbed between the hands, into 
a form resembling leaf-tobacco, and stored in 
skin bags for use. It has a highly narcotic ef- 
fect on those not habituated to its use, and pro- 
duces a heaviness sometimes approaching stupe- 
faction, altogether different from the soothing 
effects of tobacco. 

Every year, owing to the disappearance of the 
buffalo from their former haunts, the Indians are 
compelled to encroach upon each other's hunting- 

* Red osier dogwood. {Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 175 

grounds, which is a fruitful cause of war between 
the different tribes. It is a curious fact that the 
buiFalo retire before the whites, whilst the pres- 
ence of Indians in their pastures appears in no 
degree to disturb them. Wherever a few white 
hunters are congregated in a trading post, or 
elsewhere, so sure is it that, if they remain in the 
same locality, the buffalo will desert the vicinity, 
and seek pasture elsewhere. In this, the Indians 
affirm, the wahkeitcha, or '' bad medicine," of the 
pale-faces is very apparent ; and they ground upon 
it their well-founded complaints of the encroach- 
ments made upon their hunting-grounds by the 
white hunters. 

In the winter, many of the tribes are reduced 
to the very verge of starvation — the buffalo hav- 
ing passed from their country into that of their 
enemies ; when no other alternative is offered them 
but to remain where they are and starve, or to 
follow the game into a hostile region — a move 
entailing war and all its horrors. 

Reckless, moreover, of the future, in order to 
prepare robes for the traders, and to procure 
the pernicious fire-water, they wantonly slaughter, 
every year, vast numbers of buffalo cows (the 
skins of which sex only are dressed), and thus add 
to the evils in store for them. When questioned 
on this subject, and reproached with such want 
of foresight, they answer, that however quickly 
the buffalo disappears, the Red Man " goes un- 



1T6 IN THE OLD WEST 

der " more quickly still ; and that the Great Spirit 
has ordained that both shall be "rubbed out" 
from the face of nature at one and the same time, 
— " that arrows and bullets are not more fatal 
to the buffalo than the small-pox and fire-water 
to them, and that before many winters' snows have 
disappeared, the buffalo and the Red Man will 
only be remembered by their bones, which will 
strew the plains." "They look forward, how- 
ever, to a future state, when, after a long jour- 
ney, they will reach the happy hunting-grounds, 
where buffalo will once more blacken the prairies ; 
where the pale-faces dare not come to disturb 
them ; where no winter snows cover the ground, 
and the buffalo arfe always plentiful and fat." 

As soon as the streams opened. La Bonte, now 
reduced to two animals and four traps, sallied 
forth again, this time seeking the dangerous coun- 
try of the Blackfeet, on the head-waters of the 
Yellow Stone and Upper Missouri. He was ac- 
companied by three others, a man named Wheeler, 
and one Cross-Eagle, a Swede, who had been many 
years in the western country. Reaching the 
forks of a small creek, on both of which appeared 
plenty of beaver sign. La Bonte followed the left- 
hand one alone, whilst the others trapped the 
right in company, the former leaving his squaw 
in the company of a Sioux woman, who followed 
the fortunes of Cross-Eagle, the party agreeing 
to rendezvous at the junction of the two forks. 



IN THE OLD WEST 17T 

as soon as they had trapped to their heads and 
again descended them. The larger party were 
the first to reach the rendezvous, and camped on 
the banks of the main stream to await the arrival 
of La Bonte. 

The morning after their return, they had just 
risen from their blankets, and were lazily stretch- 
ing themselves before the fire, when a volley of 
firearms rattled from the bank of the creek, and 
two of their number fell dead to the ground, whilst 
at the same moment the deafening yells of Indians 
broke upon the ears of the frightened squaws. 
Cross-Eagle seized his nfle, and, though severely 
wounded, rushed to the cover of a hollow tree 
which stood near, and crawling into it, defended 
himself the whole day with the greatest obstinacy, 
killing five Indians outright, and wounding sev- 
eral more. Unable to drive the gallant trapper 
from his retreat, the savages took advantage of 
a favorable wind which suddenly sprang up, and 
fired the long dry grass surrounding the tree. 
The rotten log catching fire, at length compelled 
the hunter to leave his retreat. Clubbing his 
rifle, he charged amongst the Indians, and fell at 
last, pierced through and through with wounds, 
but not until two more of his assailants had fallen 
by his hand. 

The two squaws were carried off, and one was 
sold shortly afterwards to some white men at the 
trading ports on the Platte; but La Bonte never 



178 IN THE OLD WEST 

recovered the " Bending Reed," nor even heard of 
her existence from that day. So once more was 
the mountaineer bereft of his better half; and 
when he returned to the rendezvous, a troop of 
wolves were feasting on the bodies of his late com- 
panions, and of the Indians killed in the affray, 
of which he only heard the particulars a long time 
after from a trapper, who had been present when 
one of the squaws was offered at the trading-post 
for sale, and had heard her recount the miserable 
fate of her husband and his companions on the 
forks of the creek, which, from the fact of La 
Bonte being the leader of the party, has since 
borne his name. 

Undaunted by this misfortune, the trapper con- 
tinued his solitary hunt, passing through the midst 
of the Crow and Blackfeet country; encountering 
many perils, often hunted by the Indians, but al- 
ways escaping. He had soon loaded both his ani- 
mals with beaver, and then thought of bending 
his steps to some of the trading rendezvous on the 
other side of the mountains, where employes of 
the Great Northwest Fur Company meet the 
trappers with the produce of their hunts, on 
Lewis's fork of the Columbia, or one of its numer- 
ous affluents. His intention was to pass the win- 
ter at some of the company's trading-posts in 
Oregon, into which country he had never yet 
penetrated. 



CHAPTER V 

WE have said that La Bonte was a philos- 
opher: he took the streaks of ill luck 
which checkered his mountain life with 
perfect carelessness, if not with stoical indiffer- 
ence. Nothing ruffled his danger-steeled equanim- 
ity of temper; no sudden emotion disturbed his 
mind. We have seen how wives were torn from 
him without eliciting a groan or grumble, (but 
such contretemps^ it may be said, can scarcely 
find a place in the category of ills) ; how the loss 
of mules and mustangs, harried by horse-stealing 
Indians, left him in the ne plus ultra of mountain 
misery — afoot ; how packs and peltries, the hard- 
earned beaver of his perilous hunts, were 
'' raised " at one fell swoop by freebooting bands 
of savages. Hunger and thirst, we know, were 
commonplace sensations to the mountaineer. 
His storm-hardened flesh scarce felt the pinging 
wounds of arrow-point or bullet ; and when in the 
midst of Indian fight, it is not probable that any 
tender qualms of feeling would allay the itching 
of his fingers for his enemy's scalp-lock, nor would 
any remains of civilized fastidiousness prevent 
his burying his knife again and again in the life- 
blood of an Indian savage. 
179 



180 IN THE OLD WEST 

Still, in one dark corner of his heart, there 
shone at intervals a faint spark of what was once 
a fiercely-burning fire. Neither time, that cor- 
roder of all things, nor change, that ready abettor 
of oblivion, nor scenes of peril and excitement, 
which act as dampers to more quiet memories, 
could smother this little smoldering spark, which 
now and again — when rarely-coming calm suc- 
ceeded some stirring passage in the hunter's life, 
and left him, for a brief time, devoid of care, and 
victim to his thoughts — would flicker suddenly, 
and light up all the nooks and corners of his 
rugged breast, and discover to his mind's eye that 
one deep-rooted memory clung there still, though 
long neglected; proving that, spite of time and 
change, of life and fortune, 

"On revient ton jours a ses premiers amours." 

Often and often, as La Bonte sat cross-legged 
before his solitary camp-fire, and, pipe in mouth, 
watched the blue smoke curling upwards in the 
clear cold sky, a well-remembered form appeared 
to gaze upon him from the vapory wreaths. 
Then would old recollections crowd before him, 
and old emotions, long a stranger to his breast, 
shape themselves, as it were, into long-forgotten 
but now familiar pulsations. Again he felt the 
soft subduing influence which once, in days gone 
by, a certain passion exercised over his mind and 
body; and often a trembling seized him, the same 



IN THE OLD WEST 181 

he used to experience at the sudden sight of one 
Mary Brand, whose dim and dreamy apparition 
so often watched his lonely bed, or, unconsciously 
conjured up, cheered him in the dreary watches 
of the long and stormy winter nights. 

At first he only knew that one face haunted his 
dreams by night, and the few moments by day 
when he thought of anything, and this face smiled 
lovingly upon him and cheered him mightily. 
Name he had quite forgotten, or recalled it 
vaguely, and, setting small store by it, had 
thought of it no more. 

For many years after he had deserted his home, 
La Bonte had cherished the idea of again re- 
turning to his country. During this period he 
had never forgotten his old flame, and many a 
choice fur he had carefully laid by, intended as 
a present for Mary Brand ; and many a gage 
d'amour of cunning shape and device, worked in 
stained quills of porcupine and bright-colored 
beads — the handiwork of nimble-fingered squaws 
— he had packed in his " possible " sack for the 
same destination, hoping a time would come when 
he might lay them at her feet. 

Year after year wore on, however, and still 
found him, with traps and rifle, following his peril- 
ous avocation ; and each succeeding one saw him 
more and more wedded to the wild mountain-life. 
He was conscious how unfitted he had become 
again to enter the galling harness of convention- 



182 IN THE OLD WEST 

ality and civilization. He thought, too, how 
changed in manners and appearance he now must 
be, and could not believe that he would again 
find favor in the eyes of his quondam love, who, 
he judged, had long since forgotten him; and 
inexperienced as he was in such matters, yet he 
knew enough of womankind to feel assured that 
time and absence had long since done the work, if 
even the natural fickleness of woman's nature had 
lain doraiant. Thus it was that he came to for- 
get Mary Brand, but still remembered the all- 
absorbing feeling she had once created in his 
breast, the shadow of which still remained, and 
often took form and feature in the smoke-wreaths 
of his solitary camp-fire. 

If truth be told, La Bonte had his failings as 
a mountaineer, and — sin unpardonable in hunter 
law — still possessed, in holes and corners of his 
breast seldom explored by his inward eye, much 
of the leaven of kindly human nature, which now 
and again involuntarily peeped out, as greatly to 
the contempt of his comrade trappers as it was 
blushingly repressed by the mountaineer himself. 
Thus, in his various matrimonial episodes, he 
treated his dusky sposas with all the considera- 
tion the sex could possibly demand from hand of 
man. No squaw of his ever humped shoulder to 
receive a castigatory and martial " lodge-poling " 
for offense domestic ; but often has his helpmate 
blushed to see her pale-face lord and master de- 



IN THE OLD WEST 183 

vote himself to the feminine labor of packing huge 
piles of firewood on his back, felling trees, butch- 
ering unwieldy buffalo — all which are included 
in the Indian category of female duties. Thus 
he was esteemed an excellent parti by all the mar- 
riageable young squaws of Blackfoot, Crow, and 
Shoshone, of Yutah, Shian, and Arapaho ; but 
after his last connubial catastrophe, he steeled his 
heart against all the charms and coquetry of In- 
dian belles, and persevered in unblessed widow- 
hood for many a long day. 

From the point where we left him on his way 
to the waters of the Columbia, we must jump with 
him over a space of nearly two years, during which 
time he had a most uninterrupted run of good 
luck; trapping with great success on the head- 
streams of the Columbia and Yellow Stone — the 
most dangerous of trapping-ground — and find- 
ing good market for his peltries at the North- 
West posts — beaver fetching as high a price as 
five and six dollars a " plew " — the " golden age " 
of trappers, now, alas ! never to return, and exist- 
ing only in the fond memory of the mountaineers. 
This glorious time, however, was too good to last. 
In mountain language, " such heap of fat meat 
was not going to shine much longer." 

La Bonte was at this time one of a band of 
eight trappers, whose hunting-ground was about 
the head-waters of the Yellow Stone, which we 
have before said is in the country of the Black- 



184i IN THE OLD WEST 

feet. With him were Killbuck, Meek, Marcelline, 
and three others ; and[the leader of the party was 
Bill Williams, that old " hard case " who had 
spent forty years and more in the mountains, un- 
til he had become as tough as the pai'fleche soles 
of his moccasins.J, They were all good men and 
true, expert hunters, and well-trained mountain- 
eers. After having trapped all the streams they 
were acquainted with, it was determined to strike 
into the mountains, at a point where old Williams 
affirmed, from the run of the hills, there must be 
plenty of water, although not one of the party 
had before explored the country, or knew any- 
thing of its nature, or of the likelihood of its af- 
fording game for themselves or pasture for their 
animals. However, they packed their peltry, and 
put out for the land in view — a lofty peak, dimly 
seen above the more regular summit of the chain, 
being their landmark. 

For the first day or two their route lay between 
two ridges of mountains, and by following the 
little valley which skirted a creek, they kept on 
level ground, and s^ed their animals considerable 
labor and fatigue. LWilliams always rode ahead, 
his body bent over his saddle-horn, across which 
rested a long heavy rifle, his keen gray eyes peer- 
ing from under the slouched brim of a flexible 
felt-hat, black and shining with grease. His 
buckskin hunting-shirt, bedaubed until it had the 
appearance of polished leather, hung in folds over 



IN THE OLD WEST 185 

his bony carcass ; his nether extremities being 
clothed in pantaloons of the same material (with 
scattered fringes down the outside of the leg — 
which ornaments, however, had been pretty well 
thinned to supply whangs for mending moccasins 
or pack-saddles), which, shrunk with wet, clung 
tightly to his long, spare, sinewy legs. His feet 
were thrust into a pair of Mexican stirrups made 
of wood, and as big as coal-scuttles ; and iron 
spurs of incredible proportions, with tinkling 
drops attached to the rowels, were fastened to his 
heel — a bead-worked strap, four inches broad, 
securing them over the instep. In the shoulder- 
belt, which sustained his powder-horn and bullet- 
pouch, were fastened the various instruments of 
one pursuing his mode of life. An awl, with deer-r 
horn handle, and the point defended by a case 
of cherry-wood carved by his own hand, hung at 
the back of the belt, side by side with a worm 
for cleaning the rifle; and under this was a squat 
and quaint-looking bullet-mold, the handles 
guarded by strips of buckskin to save his fingers 
from burning when running balls, having for its 
companion a little bottle made from the point of 
an antelope's horn, scraped transparent, which 
contained the " medicine " used in baiting the 
traps. The old coon's face was sharp and thin, 
a long nose and chin hob-nobbing each other ; and 
his head was always bent forward, giving him the 
appearance of being hump-backed. He appeared 



186 IN THE OLD WEST 

to look neither to the right nor left, but, in 
fact his little twinkling eye was everywhere. He 
looked at no one he was addressing, always seem- 
ing to be thinking of something else than the sub- 
ject of his discourse, speaking in a whining, thin, 
cracked voice, and in a tone that left the hearer 
in doubt whether he was laughing or crying. On 
the present occasion he had joined this band, and 
naturally assumed the leadership (for Bill ever 
refused to go in harness), in opposition to his 
usual practice, which was to hunt alone. His 
character was well known. Acquainted with 
every inch of the Far West, and with all the In- 
dian tribes who inhabited it, he never failed to 
outwit his red enemies, and generally made his 
appearance at the rendezvous, from his solitary 
expeditions, with galore of beaver, when numerous 
bands of trappers dropped in on foot, having 
been despoiled of their packs and animals by the 
very Indians through the midst of whom old Wil- 
liams had contrived to pass unseen and unmolested. 
On occasions when he had been in company with 
others, and attacked by Indians, Bill invariably 
fought manfully, and with all the coolness that 
perfect indifference to death or danger could give, 
but always " on his own hook." His rifle cracked 
away merrily, and never spoke in vain; and in a 
charge — if ever it came to that — his keen- 
edged butcher-knife tickled the fleece of many a 
Blackfoot. But, at the same time, if he saw that 



IN THE OLD WEST 187 

discretion was the better part of valor, and affairs 
wore so cloudy an aspect as to render retreat ad- 
visable, he would first express his opinion in curt 
terms, and decisively, and, charging up his rifle, 
would take himself off and cache * so effectually 
that to search for him was utterly useless. Thus, 
when with a large party of trappers, when any- 
thing occurred which gave him a hint that trouble 
was coming, or more Indians were about than he 
considered good for his animals. Bill was wont 
to exclaim — 

" Do 'ee hyar now, boys, thar's sign about? 
this boss feels like caching " ; and without more 
words, and stoically deaf to all remonstrances, 
he would forthwith proceed to pack his animals, 
talking the while to an old crop-eared raw-boned 
Nez-perce pony, his own particular saddle-horse, 
who in dogged temper and iron hardiness, was a 
worthy companion of his self-willed master. This 
beast, as Bill seized his aplshamore to lay upon 
its galled back, would express displeasure by 
humping its back and shaking its withers with a 
wincing motion, that always excited the ire of 
the old trapper; and no sooner had he laid the 
apishamore smoothly on the chafed skin, than a 
wriggle of the animal shook it off. 

" Do 'ee hyar now, you darned crittur ? " he 
would whine out, " can't 'ee keep quiet your old 
fleece now? Isn't this old coon putting out to 

* Hide — from cacher. 



188 IN THE OLD WEST 

save 'ee from the darned Injuns now, do 'ee 
hjar? " And then, continuing his work and tak- 
ing no notice of his comrades, who stood by ban- 
tering the eccentric old trapper, he would solilo- 
quize — " Do 'ee hyar now ? This nigger sees 
sign ahead — he does ! he'll be afoot afore long, 
if he don't keep his eye skinned — he will. In- 
juns is all about, they are: Blackfoot at that. 
Can't come round this child — they can't, w^agh ! " 
And at last, his pack-animals securely tied to the 
tail of his horse, he would mount, and throwing 
the rifle across the horn of his saddle, and with- 
out noticing his companions, would drive the 
jingling spurs into his horse's gaunt sides, and 
muttering, " Can't come round this child — they 
can't ! " would ride away ; and nothing more would 
be seen or heard of him perhaps for months, 
when they would not unfrequently, themselves 
bereft of animals in the scrape he had foreseen, 
find him located in some solitary valley, in his 
lonely camp, with his animals securely picketed' 
around, and his peltries safe. 

However, if he took it into his head to keep 
company with a party, all felt perfectly secure 
under his charge. His iron frame defied fatigue, 
and at night, his love for himself and his own 
animals was sufficient guarantee that the camp 
would be well guarded. As he rode ahead, his 
spurs jingling and thumping the sides of his old 
horse at every step, he managed, with admirable 



IN THE OLD WEST 189 

dexterity, to take advantage of the best line of 
country to follow — avoiding the gullies and 
canons and broken ground, which would other- 
wise have impeded his advance. This tact ap- 
peared instinctive, for he looked neither right nor 
left, whilst continuing a course as straight as 
possible at the foot of the mountains. In select- 
ing a camping-site he displayed equal skill : wood, 
water, and gi'ass began to fill his thoughts towards 
sundown ; and when these three requisites for a 
camping-ground presented themselves, old Bill 
sprang from his saddle, unpacked his animals in 
a twinkling and hobbled them, struck fire and ig- 
nited a few chips (leaving the rest to pack in the 
wood), lit his pipe, and enjoyed himself. 

On one occasion, when passing through the 
valley, they had come upon a band of fine buffalo 
cows, and, shortly after camping, two of the party 
rode in with a good supply of fat fleece. One of 
the party was a " greenhorn " on his first hunt, 
fresh from a fort on Platte, and as yet uniniti- 
ated in the mysteries of mountain cooking. Bill, 
lazily smoking his pipe, called to him, as he hap- 
pened to be nearest, to butcher off a piece of meat 
and put it in his pot. Markhead seized the fleece, 
and commenced innocently carving off a huge 
ration, when a gasping roar from the old trapper 
caused him to drop his knife. " Ti-ya," growled 
Bill, " do 'ee hyar, now, you darned greenhorn, do 
'ee spile fat cow like that whar you was raised.'^ 



190 IN THE OLD WEST 

Them doins won't shine in this crowd, boy, do 
'ee hjar, darn you? What! butcher meat across 
the grain ! why, whar'll the blood be goin' to, you 
precious Spaniard? Down the grain, I say," he 
continued, in a severe tone of rebuke, " and let 
your flaps be long, or out the juice '11 run slick 
— do 'ee hyar, now?" But this heretical error 
nearly cost the old trapper his appetite, and all 
night long he grumbled his horror at seeing " fat 
cow spiled in that fashion." 

When two or three days' journey brought them 
to the end of the valley, and they commenced the 
passage of the mountain, their march was ob- 
structed by all kinds of obstacles; although they 
had chosen what appeared to be a gap in the 
chain, and what was in fact the only practicable 
passage in that vicinity. They followed the canon 
of a branch of the Yellow Stone, where it entered 
the mountain ; but from this point it became a tor- 
rent, and it was only by dint of incredible exer- 
tions that they reached the summit of the ridge. 
Game was exceedingly scarce in the vicinity, and 
they suffered extremely from hunger, having, on 
more than one occasion, recourse to the parfleche 
soles of their moccasins to allay its pangs. Old 
Bill, however, never grumbled; he chewed away 
at his shoes with relish even, and as long as he had 
a pipeful of tobacco in his pouch was a happy 
man. Starvation was as yet far off, for all their 
animals were in existence; but as they were in a 



IN THE OLD WEST 191 

country where it was difficult to procure a re- 
mount, each trapper hesitated to sacrifice one of 
his horses to his appetite. 

From the summit of the ridge, Bill recognized 
the country on the opposite side to that whence 
they had just ascended as familiar to him, and 
pronounced it to be full of beaver, as well as 
abounding in the less desirable commodity of In- 
dians. This was the valley lying about the lakes 
now called Eustis and Biddle, in which are many 
thermal and mineral springs, well known to the 
trappers by the names of the Soda, Beer, and 
Brimstone Springs, and regarded by them with 
no little awe and curiosity, as being the breathing- 
places of his Satanic majesty — considered, more- 
over, to be the " biggest kind " of " medicine " to 
be found in the mountains. If truth be told, old 
Bill hardly relished the idea of entering this coun- 
try, which he pronounced to be of " bad medicine " 
notoriety, but nevertheless agreed to guide them to 
the best trapping-ground. 

One day they reached a creek full of beaver- 
sign, and determined to halt here and establish 
their headquarters, while they trapped in the 
neighborhood. We must here observe, that at 
this period — which was one of considerable 
rivalry amongst the various trading companies in 
the Indian territory — the Indians, having be- 
come possessed of arms and ammunition in great 
quantities, had grown unusually daring and perse- 



192 IN THE OLD WEST 

vering in their attacks on the white hunters who 
passed through their country, and consequently 
the trappers were compelled to roam about in 
larger bands for mutual protection, which, al- 
though it made them less liable to open attack, 
yet rendered it more difficult for them to pursue 
their calling without being discovered ; for, where 
one or two men might pass unseen, the broad trail 
of a large party, with its animals, was not likely 
to escape the sharp eyes of the cunning savages. 

They had scarcely encamped when the old leader, 
who had sallied out a short distance from camp 
to reconnoiter the neighborhood, returned with 
an Indian moccasin in his hand, and informed 
his companions that its late owner and others 
were about. 

" Do 'ee hyar, now, boys.? thar's Injuns knock- 
ing round, and Blackfoot at that ; but thar's 
plenty of beaver too, and this child means trap- 
ping anyhow." 

His companions were anxious to leave such dan- 
gerous vicinity; but the old fellow, contrary to 
his usual caution, determined to remain where he 
was — saying that there were Indians all over the 
country, for that matter; and as they had deter- 
mined to hunt here, he had made up his mind to 
■ — which was conclusive, and all agreed to stop 
where they were, in spite of the Indians. La 
Bonte killed a couple of mountain sheep close to 
camp, and they feasted rarely on the fat mutton 



IN THE OLD WEST 193 

that night, and were unmolested by marauding 
Blackfeet. 

The next morning, leaving two of their num- 
ber in camp, they started in parties of two, to 
hunt for beaver-sign and set their traps. Mark- 
head paired with one Batiste, Killbuck and La 
Bonte formed another couple. Meek and Marcelline 
another; two Canadians trapped together, and 
Bill Williams and another remained to guard the 
camp : but this last, leaving Bill mending his moc- 
casins, started off to kill a mountain sheep, a band 
of which animals was visible. 

Markhead and his companion, the first couple 
on the list, followed a creek, which entered that 
on which they had encamped, about ten miles dis- 
tant. Beaver sign was abundant, and they had 
set eight traps, when Markhead came suddenly 
upon fresh Indian sign, where squaws had passed 
through the shrubbery on the banks of the stream 
to procure water, as he knew from observing a 
large stone placed by them in the stream, on 
which to stand to enable them to dip their kettles 
in the deepest water. Beckoning to his compan- 
ion to follow, and cocking his rifle, he carefully 
pushed aside the bushes, and noiselessly proceeded 
up the bank, when, creeping on hands and knees, 
he gained the top, and, looking from his hiding- 
place, descried three Indian huts standing on a 
little plateau near the creek. Smoke curled from 
the roofs of branches, but the skin doors were care- 



194 IN THE OLD WEST 

fully closed, so that he was unable to distinguish 
the number of the inmates. At a little distance, 
however, he observed two or three squaws gather- 
ing wood, with the usual attendance of curs, whose 
acuteness in detecting the scent of strangers was 
much to be dreaded. 

Markhead was a rash and daring young fellow, 
caring no more for Indians than he did for prairie 
dogs, and acting ever on the spur of the moment, 
and as his inclination dictated, regardless of con- 
sequences. He at once determined to enter the 
lodges, and attack the enemy should any be there ; 
and the other trapper was fain to join him in the 
enterprise. The lodges proved empty, but the 
fires were still burning, and meat cooking upon 
them, to which the hungry hunters did ample jus- 
tice, besides helping themselves to whatever goods 
and chattels, in the shape of leather and moc- 
casins, took their fancy. 

Gathering their spoil into a bundle, they sought 
their horses, which they had left tied under cover 
of the timber on the banks of the creek ; and, 
mounting, took the back trail, to pick up their 
traps and remove from so dangerous a neighbor- 
hood. They were approaching the spot where 
the first trap was set, a thick growth of ash and 
quaking-ash concealing the stream, when Mark- 
head, who was riding ahead, observed the bushes 
agitated, as if some animal was making its way 
through them. He instantly stopped his horse, 



IN THE OLD WEST 195 

and his companion rode to his side, to inquire the 
cause of this abrupt halt. They were within a 
few yards of the belt of shinibs which skirted the 
stream; and before Markhead had time to reply, 
a dozen swarthy heads and shoulders suddenly 
protruded from the leafy screen, and as many 
rifle-barrels and arrows were pointing* at their 
breasts. Before the trappers had time to turn 
their horses and fly, a cloud of smoke burst from 
the thicket almost in their faces. Batiste, 
pierced with several balls, fell dead, and Mark- 
head felt himself severely wounded. However, he 
struck the spurs into his horse; and as some half- 
score Blackfeet jumped with loud cries from their 
cover, he discharged his rifle amongst them, and 
galloped off, a volley of balls and arrows whistling 
after him. He drew no bit until he reined up at 
the camp-fire, where he found Bill quietly dressing 
a deer-skin. That worthy looked up from his 
work ; and seeing Markhead's face streaming with 
blood, and the very unequivocal evidence of an In- 
dian rencontre in the shape of an arrow sticking 
in his back, he asked, — " Do 'ee feel bad, now, boy? 
Whar away you see them darned Blackf oot ? " 

" Well, pull this arrow out of my back, and 
maybe I'll feel like telling," answered Markhead. 

"Do 'ee hyar, now.? hold on till I've grained 
this cussed skin, will 'ee.? Did 'ee ever see sich 
a darned pelt, now? it won't take the smoke any- 
how I fix it." And Markhead was fain to wait 



196 IN THE OLD WEST 

the leisure of the imperturbable old trapper, be- 
fore he was eased of his annoying companion. 

Old Bill expressed no surprise or grief when in- 
formed of the fate of poor Batiste. He said it 
was "just like greenhorns, runnin' into them 
cussed Blackf oot " ; and observed that the defunct 
trapper, being only a Vide Poche,* was " no ac- 
count anyhow." Presently* Killbuck and La, 
Bonte galloped into camp, with another alarm 
of Indians. They had also been attacked sud- 
denly by a band of Blackfeet, but, being in a 
more open country, had got clear off, after killing 
two of their assailants, whose scalps hung at the 
horns of their saddles. They had been in a dif- 
ferent direction to that in which Markhead and 
his companion had proceeded, and from the signs 
they had observed, expressed their belief that the 
country was alive with Indians. Neither of these 
men had been wounded. Presently the two Cana- 
dians made their appearance on the bluff, gallop- 
ing with might and main to camp, and shouting 
" Indians ! Indians ! " as they came. All being 
assembled and a council held, it was determined 
to abandon the camp and neighborhood immedi- 
ately. Old Bill was already packing his animals, 
and as he pounded the saddle down on the withers 
of his old Rosinante, he muttered — " Do 'ee hyar, 
now.? this coon '11 cache, he will." So mounting 
his horse, and leading his pack-mule by a lariat, 
* Carondelet Creole. {Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 197 

he bent over his saddle-horn, dug his ponderous 
rowels into the lank sides of his beast, and, with- 
out a word, struck up the bluff and disappeared. 

The others, hastily gathering up their packs, 
and most of them having lost their traps, quickly- 
followed his example, and " put out." On crest- 
ing the high ground which rose from the creek, 
they observed thin columns of smoke mounting 
into the air from many different points, the mean- 
ing of which they were at no loss to guess. How- 
ever, they were careful not to show themselves 
on elevated ground, keeping as much as , possible 
under the banks of the creek, when such a course 
was practicable; but, the bluffs sometimes rising 
precipitously from the water, they were more than 
once compelled to ascend the banks, and continue 
their course along the uplands, whence they might 
easily be discovered by the Indians. It was 
nearly sundown when they left their camp, but 
they proceeded during the greater part of the 
night at as rapid a rate as possible ; their prog- 
ress, however, being greatly retarded as they ad- 
vanced into the mountain, their route lying up 
stream. Towards morning they halted for a brief 
space, but started again as soon as daylight per- 
mitted them to see their way over the broken 
ground. 

The creek now forced its way through a narrow 
canon, the banks being thickly clothed with a 
shrubbery of Cottonwood and quaking-ash. The 



198 IN THE OLD WEST 

mountain rose on each side, but not abruptly, be- 
ing here and there broken into plateaus and shelv- 
ing prairies. In a very thick bottom, sprinkled 
with coarse grass, they halted about noon, and re- 
moved the saddles and packs from their wearied 
animals, picketing them in the best spots of 
grass. 

La Bonte and Killbuck, after securing their 
animals, left the camp to hunt, for they had no 
provisions of any kind; and a short distance be- 
yond it, the former came suddenly upon a recent 
moccasin-track in the timber. After examining it 
for a moment, he raised his head with a broad grin, 
and, turning to his companion, pointed into the 
cover, where, in the thickest part, they discerned 
the well-known figure of old Bill's horse, browsing 
upon the cherry-bushes. Pushing through the 
thicket in search of the brute's master, La Bonte 
suddenly stopped short as the muzzle of a rifle- 
barrel gaped before his eyes at the distance of a 
few inches, whilst the thin voice of Bill muttered — ■ 

" Do 'ee hyar now, I was nigh giving 'ee h : 

I was now. If I didn't think 'ee was Blackfoot I'm 
dogged now." And not a little indignant was the 
old fellow that his cache had been so easily though 
accidentally discovered. However, he presently 
made his appearance in camp, leading his animals 
and once more joined his late companions, not 
deigning to give any explanation as to why or 
wherefore he had deserted them the day before, 



IN THE OLD WEST 199 

merely muttering, " Do 'ee hyar now ? thar's 
trouble comin'." 

The two hunters returned after sundown with 
a black-tailed deer; and after eating the better 
part of the meat, and setting a guard, the party 
were glad to roll in their blankets and enjoy the 
rest they so much needed. They were undisturbed 
during the night ; but at dawn of day the sleepers 
were roused by a hundred fierce yells, from the 
mountains enclosing the creek on which they had 
encamped. The yells were instantly followed by 
a ringing volley, the bullets thudding into the 
trees, and cutting the branches near them, but 
without causing any mischief. Old Bill rose from 
his blanket and shook himself, and exclaimed 
" Wagh ! " as at that moment a ball plumped into 
the fire over which he was standing, and knocked 
the ashes about in a cloud. All the mountaineers 
seized their rifles and sprang to cover; but as yet 
it was not sufficiently light to show them their 
enemy, the bright flashes from the guns alone in- 
dicating their position. As morning dawned, 
however, they saw that both sides of the canon 
were occupied by the Indians ; and, from the firing, 
judged there must be at least a hundred warriors 
engaged in the attack. Not a shot had yet been 
fired by the trappers, but as the light increased, 
they eagerly watched for an Indian to expose him- 
self, and ofl*er a mark to their trusty rifles. La 
Bonte, Killbuck, and old Bill, lay a few yards dis- 



^00 IN THE OLD WEST 

tant from each other, flat on their faces, near the 
edge of the thicket, their rifles raised before them, 
and the barrels resting in the forks of convenient 
bushes. From their place of concealment to the 
position of the Indians — who, however, were 
scattered here and there, wherever a rock afl*orded 
them cover — was a distance of about 150 yards, 
or within fair rifle-shot. The trappers were 
obliged to divide their force, since both sides of 
the creek were occupied ; but such was the nature 
of the ground, and the excellent cover aff'orded by 
the rocks and bowlders, and clumps of dwarf pine 
and hemlock, that not a hand's-breadth of an In- 
dian's body had yet been seen. Nearly opposite 
La Bonte, a shelving glade in the mountain-side 
ended in an abrupt precipice, and at the very edge, 
and almost toppling over it, were several bowlders, 
just of sufiicient size to aff*ord cover to a man's 
body. As this bluffs overlooked the trappers' 
position, it was occupied by the Indians, and every 
rock covered an assailant. At one point, just 
over where La Bonte and Killbuck were lying, two 
bowlders lay together, with just sufficient interval 
to admit a rifle-barrel between them, and from 
this breastwork an Indian kept up a most annoy- 
ing fire. All his shots fell in dangerous propin- 
quity to one or other of the trappers, and already 
Killbuck had been grazed by one better directed 
than the others. La Bonte watched for some 
time in vain for a chance to answer this persever- 



IN THE OLD WEST 201 

ing marksman, and at length an opportunity of- 
fered, by which he was not long in profiting. 

The Indian, as the light increased, was better 
able to discern his mark, and fired, and yelled 
every time he did so, with redoubled vigor. In 
his eagerness, and probably whilst in the act of 
taking aim, he leaned too heavily against the rock 
which covered him, and, detaching it from its posi- 
tion, down it rolled into the canon, exposing his 
body by its fall. At the same instant, a wreath 
of smoke puffed from the bushes which concealed 
the trappers, and the crack of La Bonte's rifle 
spoke the first word of reply to the Indian chal- 
lenge. A few feet behind the rock fell the dead 
body of the Indian, rolling down the steep sides of 
the canon, and only stopped by a bush at the very 
bottom, within a few yards of the spot where 
Markhead lay concealed in some high grass. 

That daring fellow instantly jumped from his 
cover, and drawing his knife, rushed to the body, 
and in another moment, held aloft the Indian's 
scalp, giving, at the same time, a triumphant 
whoop. A score of rifles were leveled and dis- 
charged at the intrepid mountaineer; but in the 
act many Indians incautiously exposed themselves, 
every rifle in the timber cracked simultaneously, 
and for each report an Indian bit the dust. 

Now, however, they changed their tactics. 
Finding they were unable to drive the trappers 
from their position, they retired from the moun- 



IN THE OLD WEST 

tain, and the firing suddenly ceased. In their 
retreat they were forced to expose themselves, and 
again the whites dealt destruction amongst them. 
As the Indians retired, yelling loudly, the hunters 
thought they had given up the contest; but pres- 
ently a cloud of smoke rising from the bottom im- 
mediately below them, at once discovered the na- 
ture of their plans. A brisk wind was blowing up 
the caiion ; and, favored by it, they fired the brush 
on the banks of the stream, knowing that before 
this the hunters must speedily retreat. 

Against such a result, but for the gale of wind 
which drove the fire roaring before it, they could 
have provided — for your mountaineer never fails 
to find resources on a pinch. They would have fired 
the brush to leeward of their position, and also 
carefully ignited that to windward, or between 
them and the advancing flame, extinguishing it 
immediately when a sufficient space had thus been 
cleared over which the flame could not leap, and 
thus cutting themselves ofl" from it both above and 
below their position. In the present instance they 
could not profit by such a course, as the wind was 
so strong that, if once the bottom caught fire, 
they would not be able to extinguish it ; besides 
which, in the attempt, they would so expose them- 
selves that they would be picked off* by the In- 
dians without difficulty. As it was, the fire came 
roaring before the wind with the speed of a race- 
horse, and, spreading from the bottom, licked the 



IN THE OLD WEST 203 

mountain-sides, the dry grass burning like tinder. 
Huge volumes of stifling smoke rolled before ii, 
and in a very few minutes the trappers were 
hastily mounting their animals, driving the packed 
ones before them.. The dense clouds of smoke con- 
cealed everything from their view, and, to avoid 
this, they broke from the creek and galloped up 
the sides of the canon on to the more level plateau. 
As they attained this, a band of mounted Indians 
charged them. One, waving a red blanket, dashed 
through the cavallada, and was instantly followed 
by all the loose animals of the trappers, the rest of 
the Indians pursuing with loud shouts. So sud- 
den was the charge, that the whites had not power 
to prevent the stampede. Old Bill, as usual, led 
his pack-mules by the lariat ; but the animals, mad 
with terror at the shouts of the Indians, broke 
from him, nearly pulling him out of his seat at 
the same time. To cover the retreat of the others 
with their prey, a band of mounted Indians now 
appeared, threatening an attack in front, whilst 
their first assailants, rushing from the bottom, at 
least a hundred strong, assaulted in rear. " Do 
'ee hyar, boys ? " shouted old Bill, " break, or 
you'll go under. This child's goin' to cache ! " 
and saying the word, off he went. Sauve qui peut 
was the order of the day, and not a moment too 
soon, for overwhelming numbers were charging 
upon them, and the mountain resounded with sav- 
age yells^ La Bonte and Killbuck stuck together : 



204 IN THE OLD WEST 

they saw old Bill, bending over his saddle, dive 
right into the cloud of smoke, and apparently 
make for the creek bottom — their other com- 
panions scattering each on his own hook, and saw 
no more of them for many a month ; and thus was 
one of the most daring and successful bands 
broken up that ever trapped in the mountains of 
the Far West. 

It is painful to follow the steps of the poor fel- 
lows who, thus despoiled of the hardly-earned 
produce of their hunt, saw all their wealth torn 
from them at one swoop. The two Canadians 
were killed upon the night succeeding that of the 
attack. Worn with fatigue, hungry and cold, 
they had built a fire in what they thought was a 
secure retreat, and, rolled in their blankets, were 
soon buried in a sleep from which they never 
awoke. An Indian boy tracked them, and 
watched their camp. Burning with the idea of 
signalizing himself thus early, he awaited his op- 
portunity, and noiselessly approaching their rest- 
ing-place, shot them both with arrows, and re- 
turned in triumph to his people with" their horses 
and scalps. 

La Bonte and Killbuck sought a passage m the 
mountain by which to cross over to the head- 
waters of the Columbia, and there fall in with 
some of the traders or trappers of the North- 
West. They became involved in the mountains, 
in a part where was no game of any description, 



IN THE OLD WEST 205 

and no pasture for their miserable animals. One 
of these they killed for food; the other, a bag of 
bones, died from sheer starvation. They had very 
little ammunition, their moccasins were worn out, 
and they were unable to procure skins to supply 
themselves with fresh ones. Winter was fast ap- 
proaching; the snow already covered the moun- 
tains; and storms of sleet and hail poured inces- 
santly through the valleys, benumbing their ex- 
hausted limbs, hardly protected by scanty and 
ragged covering. To add to their miseries, poor 
Killbuck was taken ill. He had been wounded in 
the groin by a bullet some time before, and the 
ball still remained. The wound, aggravated by 
walking and the excessive cold, assumed an ugly 
appearance, and soon rendered him incapable of 
sustained exertion, all motion even being attended 
with intolerable pain. La Bonte had made a 
shanty for his suffering companion, and spread a 
soft bed of pine branches for him, by the side of a 
small creek at the point where it came out of the 
mountain and followed its course through a little 
prairie. They had been three days without other 
food than a piece of parfleche, which had formed 
the back of La Bonte's bullet-pouch, and which, 
after soaking in the creek, they eagerly devoured. 
Killbuck was unable to move, and sinking fast 
from exhaustion. His companion had hunted 
from morning till night, as well as his failing 
strength would allow him, but had not seen the 



206 IN THE OLD WEST 

traces of any kind of game, with the exception 
of some old bufFalo-tracks, made apparently 
months before by a band of bulls crossing the 
mountain. 

The morning of the fourth day, La Bonte as 
usual rose at daybreak from his blanket, and was 
proceeding to collect wood for the fire during his 
absence while hunting, when Killbuck called to 
him, and in an almost inarticulate voice desired 
him to seat himself by his side. 

" Boy," he said, " this old boss feels like goin' 
under, and that afore long. You're stout yet, 
and if thar was meat handy, you'd come round 
slick. Now, boy, I'll be under, as I said, afore 
many hours, and if you don't raise meat you'll be 
in the same fix. I never eat dead meat * myself, 
and wouldn't ask no one to do it neither ; but meat 
fair killed is meat any way; so, boy, put your 
knife in this old nigger's lights, and help yourself. 
It's * poor bull,' I know, but maybe it'll db to keep 
life in ; and along the fleece thar's meat yet, and 
maybe my old hump-ribs has picking on 'em." 

" You're a good old boss," answered La Bonte, 
** but this child ain't turned nigger yet." 

Killbuck then begged his companion to leave 
him to his fate, and strive himself to reach game ; 
but this alternative La Bonte likewise generously 
refused-, and, faintly endeavoring to cheer the sick 
m*an, left him once again to look for game. He 

* Carrion. 



IN THE OLD WEST 207 

was so weak that he felt difficulty in supporting 
himself; and knowing how futile would be his at- 
tempts to hunt, he sallied from the camp, con- 
vinced that a few hours more would see the last of 
him. 

He had scarcely raised his eyes, when, hardly 
crediting his senses, he saw within a few hundred 
yards of him an old bull, worn with age, lying on 
the prairie. Two wolves were seated on their 
haunches before him, their tongues lolling from 
their mouths, whilst the buffalo was impotently 
rolling his ponderous head from side to side, his 
bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely at his tormentors, 
and flakes of foam, mixed with blood, dropping 
from his mouth over his long shaggy beard. La 
Bonte was transfixed ; he scarcely dared to 
breathe, lest the animal should be alarmed and es- 
cape. Weak as it was, he could hardly have fol- 
lowed it, and, knowing that his own and compan- 
ion's life hung upon the success of his shot, he 
scarcely had strength to raise his rifle. By dint 
of extraordinary exertions and precautions — 
which were totally unecessary, for the poor old 
bull had not. a move in him — the hunter ap- 
proached within shot. Lying upon the ground, 
he took a long steady aim, and fired. The buf- 
falo raised its matted head, tossed it wildly for 
an instant, and, stretching out its limbs convul- 
sively, turned over on its side and was dead. 

Killbuck heard the shot, and, crawling from 



^08 IN THE OLD WEST 

under the little shanty which covered his bed, saw, 
to his astonishment, La Bonte in the act of butch- 
ering a buffalo within two hundred yards of camp. 
" Hurraw for you ! " he faintly exclaimed ; and ex- 
hausted by the exertion he had used, and perhaps 
by the excitement of an anticipated feast, fell back 
and fainted. 

However, the killing was the easiest matter, for 
when the huge carcass lay dead upon the ground, 
our hunter had hardly strength to drive the blade 
of his knife through the tough hide of the old 
patriarch. Then, having cut off as much of the 
meat as he could carry, eating the while sundry 
portions of the liver, which he dipped in the gall- 
bladder by way of relish. La Bonte cast a wistful 
look upon the half-starved wolves, who now loped 
round and round, licking their chops, only waiting 
until his back was turned to fall to with appetite 
equal to his own, and capabilities of swallowing 
and digesting far superior. La Bonte looked at 
the buffalo and then at the wolves, leveled his 
rifle and shot one dead, at which the survivor 
scampered off without delay. 

Arrived at camp, packing in a tolerable load of 
the best part of the animal — for hunger lent him 
strength — he found poor Killbuck lying on his 
back, deaf to time, and to all appearance gone 
under. Having no sal-volatile or vinaigrette at 
hand. La Bonte flapped a lump of raw fleece into 
his patient's face, and this instantly revived him. 



IN THE OLD WEST 209 

Then taking the sick man's shoulder, he raised him 
tenderly into a sitting posture, and invited, in 
kindly accents, " the old hoss to feed," thrusting 
at the same time a tolerable slice of liver into his 
hand, which the patient looked at wistfully and 
vaguely for a few short moments, and then 
greedily devoured. It was nightfall by the time 
that La Bonte, assisted by many intervals of hard 
eating, packed in the last of the meat, which 
formed a goodly pile around the fire. 

" Poor bull " it was, in all conscience : the labor 
of chewing a mouthful of the tenderloin was equal 
to a hard day's hunt; but to them, poor starved 
fellows, it appeared the richest of meat. They 
still preserved a small tin pot, and in this, by 
stress of eternal boiling. La Bonte contrived to 
make some strong soup, which soon restored his 
sick companion to marching order. For himself, 
as soon as a good meal had filled him, he was strong 
as ever, and employed himself in drying the re- 
mainder of the meat for future use. Even the 
wolf, bony as he was, was converted into meat, and 
rationed them several days. Winter, however, 
had set in with such severity, and Killbuck was 
still so weak, that La Bonte determined to remain 
in his present position until spring, as he now 
found that buffalo frequently visited the valley, as 
it was more bare of snow than the lowlands, and 
afforded them better pasture ; and one morning he 
had the satisfaction of seeing a band of seventeen 



^10 IN THE OLD WEST 

bulls within long rifle-shot of the camp, out of 
which four of the fattest were soon laid low by his 
rifle. 

They still had hard times before them, for to- 
wards spring the buff'alo again disappeared; the 
greater part of their meat had been spoiled, ow- 
ing to there not being sufficient sun to dry it thor- 
oughly ; and when they resumed their journey they 
had nothing to carry with them, and had a desert 
before them without game of any kind. We pass 
over what they suff*ered. Hunger and thirst were 
their portion, and Indians assaulted them at times, 
and many miraculous and hair-breadth escapes 
they had from these enemies. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE trail to Oregon, followed by traders and 
emigrants, crosses the Rocky Mountains at 
a point known as the South Pass, where a 
break in the chain occurs of such moderate and 
gradual elevation as to permit the passage of 
wagons with tolerable facility. The Sweetwater 
Valley runs nearly to the point where the divid- 
ing ridge of the Pacific and Atlantic waters throws 
off its streams to their respective oceans. At one 
end of this valley, and situated on the right bank 
of the Sweetwater, a huge isolated mass of 
granitic rock rises to the height of three hundred 
feet abruptly from the plain.* On the smooth 
and scarped surface presented by one of its sides, 
are rudely carved the names and initials of 
traders, trappers, travelers, and emigrants, who 
have here recorded the memorial of their sojourn 
in the remote wilderness of the Far West. The 
face of the rock is covered with names familiar to 
the mountaineers as those of the most renowned 
of their hardy brotherhood; while others, again, 
occur, better known to the science and literature 

* Independence Rock, (Ed.) 
211 



^12 IN THE OLD WEST 

of the Old World than to the unlearned trappers 
of the Rocky Mountains. The huge mass is a 
well-known landmark to the Indians and moun- 
taineers ; and travelers and emigrants hail it as 
the halfway beacon between the frontiers of the 
United States and the still distant goal of their 
long and perilous journey. 

It was a hot sultry day in July. Not a breath 
of air relieved the intense and oppressive heat of 
the atmosphere, unusual here, where pleasant sum- 
mer breezes, and sometimes stronger gales, blow 
over the elevated plains with the regularity of 
trade-winds. The sun, at its meridian height, 
struck the dry sandy plain, and parched the 
drooping buiFalo-grass on its surface ; and its rays, 
refracted and reverberating from the heated 
ground, distorted every object seen through its 
lurid medium. Straggling antelope, leisurely 
crossing the adjoining prairie, appeared to be 
gracefully moving in mid-air; whilst a scattered 
band of buffalo bulls loomed huge and indistinct 
in the vapory distance. In the timbered valley of 
the river, deer and elk were standing motionless 
in the water, under the shade of the overhanging 
cottonwoods, seeking a respite from the persever- 
ing attacks of swarms of horse-flies and mos- 
quitoes; and now and then a heavy splash was 
heard, as they tossed their antlered heads into the 
stream, to free them from the venomous insects 
that buzzed incessantly about them. In the sandy 



IN THE OLD WEST 213 

prairie, beetles of an enormous size were rolling 
in every direction huge balls of earth, pushing 
them with their hind legs with comical persever- 
ance; chameleons darted about, assimilating the 
hue of their grotesque bodies with the color of the 
sand : groups of prairie-dog houses were seen, each 
with its inmate barking lustily on the roof ; whilst 
under cover of nearly every bush of sage or cactus 
a rattlesnake lay glittering in lazy coil. Tanta- 
lizing the parched sight, the neighboring peaks 
of the lofty Wind River Mountains glittered in a 
mantle of sparkling snow; whilst Sweetwater 
Mountain, capped in cloud, looked gray and cool, 
in striking contrast to the burned-up plains which 
lay basking at its foot. 

Resting their backs against the rock (on which, 
we have said, are norv carved the names of many 
travelers), and defended from the powerful rays 
of the sun by its precipitous sides, two white men 
quietly slept. They were gaunt and lantern- 
jawed, and clothed in tattered buckskin. Each 
held a rifle across his knees, but — strange sight- 
in this country — one had its pan thrown open, 
which was rust-eaten and contained no priming; 
the other's hammer was without a flint. Their 
faces were as if covered with mahogany-colored 
parchment; their eyes were sunken; and as their 
jaws fell listlessly on their breasts, their cheeks 
were hollow, with the bones nearly protruding 
from the skin. One was in the prime of manhood. 



214 IN THE OLD WEST 

with handsome features ; the other, considerably 
past middle age, was stark and stern. Months 
of dire privation had brought them to this pass. 
The elder of the two was Killbuck, of mountain 
fame ; the other was hight La Bonte. 

The former opened his eyes, and saw the 
buffalo feeding on the plain. " Ho, boy," he 
said, touching his companion, " thar's meat a-run- 
nin'." 

La Bonte looked in the direction the other 
pointed, stood up, and hitching round his pouch 
and powder-horn, drew the stopper from the lat- 
ter with his teeth, and placing the mouth in the 
palm of his left hand, turned the horn up and 
shook it. 

" Not a grain," he said — " not a grain, old 
boss." 

" Wagh ! " exclaimed the other, " we'll have to 
eat afore long," — and rising, walked into the 
prairie. He had hardly stepped two paces, when, 
passing close to a sage-bush, a rattlesnake whizzed 
a note of warning with its tail. Killbuck grinned, 
and taking the wiping-stick from his rifle-barrel, 
tapped the snake on the head, and taking it by the 
tail, threw it to La Bonte, saying, " hyar's meat, 
anyhow." The old fellow followed up his success 
by slaying half-a-dozen more, and brought them 
in skewered through the head on his wiping-stick. 
A fire was soon kindled, and the snakes roasting 
before it ; when La Bonte, who sat looking at buf- 



IN THE OLD WEST 215 

falo which fed close to the rock, suddenly saw them 
raise their heads, snufF the air, and scamper to- 
wards him. A few minutes afterwards, a huge 
shapeless body loomed in the refracted air, ap- 
proaching the spot where the buffalo had been 
grazing. The hunters looked at it and then at 
each other, and ejaculated "Wagh!" Presently 
a long white mass showed more distinctly, followed 
by another, and before each was a string of ani- 
mals. 

" Wagons, by boss and beaver ! Hurrah for 
Conestoga ! " exclaimed the trappers in a breath, 
as they now observed two white-tilted wagons, 
drawn by several pairs of mules, approaching the 
very spot where they sat. Several mounted men 
were riding about the wagons, and two on horse- 
back, in advance of all, were approaching the rock, 
when they observed the smoke curling from the 
hunters' fire. They halted at sight of this ; and 
one of the two, drawing a long instrument from a 
case, which Killbuck voted a rifle, directed it to- 
wards them for a moment, and then lowering it, 
again moved forward. 

As they drew near, the two poor trappers, al- 
though half-dead with joy, still retained their 
seats with Indian gravity and immobility of fea- 
ture, turning now and then the crackling snakes 
which lay on the embers of the fire. The two 
strangers approached. One, a man of some fifty 
years of age, of middle height and stoutly built, 



216 IN THE OLD WEST 

was clad in a white shooting- jacket, of cut un- 
known in mountain tailoring, and a pair of 
trousers of the well-known material called shep- 
herd's plaid ; a broad-brimmed Panama shaded his 
face, which was ruddy with health and exercise; 
a belt round the waist supported a handsome 
bowie-knife, and a double-barreled fowling-piece 
was slung across his shoulder. 

His companion was likewise dressed in a light 
shooting-jacket, of many pockets and dandy cut, 
rode on an English saddle and in hoots, and was 
armed with a superb double rifle, glossy from the 
case, and bearing few marks of use or service. 
He was a tall fine-looking fellow of thirty, with 
light hair and complexion; a scrupulous beard 
and mustache; a wide-awake hat, with a short 
pipe stuck in the band, not very black with smoke ; 
an elaborate powder-horn over his shoulder, with 
a Cairngorm in the butt as large as a plate ; a blue 
handkerchief tied round his throat in a sailor's 
knot, and the collar of his shirt turned carefully 
over it. He had, moreover, a tolerable idea of his 
very correct appearance, and wore Woodstock 
gloves. 

The trappers looked at them from head to foot, 
and the more they looked, the less could they make 
them out. 

" H — ! " exclaimed La Bonte, emphatically. 

" This beats grainin' bull-hide slick," broke 
from Killbuck as the strangers reined up at the 



IN THE OLD WEST ai7 

fire, the younger dismounting, and staring with 
wonder at the weather-beaten trappers. 

" Well, my men, how are you ? " he rattled out. 
" Any game here ? By Jove ! " he suddenly ex- 
claimed, seizing his rifle, as at that moment a 
large buzzard, the most unclean of birds, flew into 
the topmost branch of a cottonwood, and sat, a 
tempting shot. " By Jove, there's a chance ! " 
cried the mighty hunter ; and, bending low, started 
off* to approach the unwary bird in the most ap- 
proved fashion of northern deer-stalkers. The 
buzzard sat quietly, and now and then stretched 
its neck to gaze upon the advancing sportsman, 
who on such occasions threw himself flat on the 
ground, and remained, motionless, in dread of 
alarming the bird. It was worth while to look at 
the countenance of old Killbuck, as he watched 
the antics of the " bourgeois " hunter. He 
thought at first that the dandy rifleman had really 
discovered game in the bottom, and was nothing 
loath that there was a chance of his seeing meat; 
but when he understood the object of such ma- 
neuvers, and saw the quarry the hunter was so care- 
fully approaching, his mouth grinned from ear to 
ear, and, turning to La Bonte, he said, " Wagh ! 
he^s some — ^^ is I " 

Nothing doubting, however, the stranger ap- 
proached the tree on which the bird was sitting, 
and, getting well under it, raised his rifle and 
fired. Down tumbled the bird ; and the successful 



218 IN THE OLD WEST 

hunter, with a loud shout, rushed frantically to- 
wards it, and bore it in triumph to the camp, earn- 
ing the most sovereign contempt from the two 
trappers by the achievement. 

The other stranger was a quieter character. 
He, too, smiled as he witnessed the exultation of 
his younger companion (whose horse, by the way, 
was scampering about the plain), and spoke kindly 
to the mountaineers, whose appearance was clear 
evidence of the sufferings they had endured. The 
snakes by this time were cooked, and the trappers 
gave their new acquaintances the never-failing in- 
vitation to '' sit and eat." When the latter, how- 
ever, understood what the viands were, their looks 
expressed the horror and disgust they felt. 

" Good God ! " exclaimed the elder, " you surely 
cannot eat such disgusting food? " 

" This nigger doesn't savy what disgustin' is," 
gruffly answered Killbuck ; " but them as carries 
empty paunch three days an' more, is glad to get 
snake meat, I'm thinkin'." 

"What! you've no ammunition, then? " 

" Well we haven't." 

" Wait till the wagons come up, and throw away 
that abominable stuff, and you shall have some- 
thing better, I promise," said the elder of the 
strangers. 

" Yes," continued the younger ; " some hot pre- 
served soup, hotch-potch, and a glass of porter, 
will do you- good." 



IN THE OLD WEST 219 

The trappers looked at the speaker, who was 
talking Greek (to them). They thought the 
bourgeois were making fun, and did not half like 
it, so answered simply, " Wagh ! h — *s full of hosh- 
posh and porter." 

Two large wagons presently came up, escorted 
by some eight or ten stout Missourians. Sub- 
lette was amongst the number, well known as a 
mountain trader, and under whose guidance the 
present party, which formed a pleasure expedition 
at the expense of a Scotch sportsman, was lei- 
surely making its way across the mountains to the 
Columbia. As several mountaineers were in com- 
pany, Killbuck and La Bonte recognized more than 
one friend, and the former and Sublette were old 
campaneros. As soon as the animals were un- 
hitched, and camp formed on the banks of the 
creek, a black cook set about preparing a meal. 
Our two trapping friends looked on with astonish- 
ment as the sable functionary drew from the 
wagon the different articles he required to furnish 
forth a feed. Hams, tongues, tins of preserved 
meats, bottles of pickles, of porter, brandy, coffee, 
sugar, flour, were tumbled promiscuously on the 
prairie ; whilst pots and pans, knives, forks, 
spoons, plates, &c. &c., displayed their unfamiliar 
faces to the mountaineers. " Hosh-posh and por- 
ter " did not now appear such Utopian articles as 
they had first imagined ; but no one but those who 
have lived for years on simple meat and water, 



220 IN THE OLD WEST 

can understand the relish with which they ac- 
cepted the invitation of the Cap'n (as they called 
the Scotchman) to " take a horn of liquor." 
Killbuck and La Bonte sat in the same position as 
when we first surprised them asleep under the 
shadow of Independence Rock, regarding the pro- 
fuse display of comestibles with scarce-believing 
eyes, and childishly helpless from the novelty of 
the scene. Each took the proffered half-pint cup, 
filled to the brim with excellent brandy — (no 
teetotallers they!) — looked once at the amber- 
colored surface, and, with the usual mountain 
pledge of " here's luck ! " tossed off the grateful 
liquor at a breath. This prepared them in some 
measure for what was yet in store for them. The 
Scotchman bestirred the cook in his work, and 
soon sundry steaming pots were lifted from the 
fire, and the skillets emptied of their bread — the 
contents of the former poured in large flat pans, 
while pannikins were filled with smoking coffee. 
The two trappers needed no second invitation, 
but, seizing each a panful of steaming stew, drew 
the butcher-knives from their belts, and fell-to 
lustily — the hospitable Scotchman plying them 
with more and more, and administering corrective 
noggins of brandy the while ; until at last they were 
fain to cry " enough," wiped their knives on the 
grass, and placed them in their sheaths — a sign 
that human nature could no more. How can pen 
describe the luxury of the smoke that followed, to 



IN THE OLD WEST g^l 

lips which had not kissed pipe for many months, 
and how the fragrant honey-dew from Old Vir- 
ginia was relishingly puffed! 

But the Scotchman's bounty did not stop here. 
He soon elicited from the lips of the hunters the 
narrative of their losses and privations, and 
learned that they now, without ammunition and 
scarcely clothed, were on their way to Platte Fort, 
to hire themselves to the Indian traders in order 
to earn another outfit, wherewith once more to be- 
take themselves to their perilous employment of 
trapping. What was their astonishment to see 
their entertainer presently lay out upon the 
ground two piles of goods, each consisting of a 
four-point Mackinaw, two tin canisters of powder, 
with corresponding lead and flints, a pair of moc- 
casins, a shirt, and sufficient buckskin to make a 
pair of pantaloons ; and how much the more was 
the wonder increased when two excellent Indian 
horses were presently lassoed from the cavallada, 
and with mountain saddle, bridle, and lariats com- 
plete, together with the two piles of goods de- 
scribed, presented to them " on the prairie " or 
" gift-free," by the kind-hearted stranger, who 
would not even listen to thanks for the most timely 
and invaluable present. 

Once more equipped, our two hunters, filled 
with good brandy and fat buffalo meat, again 
wended on their way; their late entertainers con- 
tinuing their pleasure-trip across the gap of the 



^22 IN THE OLD WEST 

South Pass, intending to visit the Great Salt Lake, 
or Timponogos, of the West. The former were 
bound for the North Fork of the Platte, with the 
intention of joining one of the numerous trapping 
parties which rendezvous at the American Fur 
Company's post on that branch of the river. On 
a fork of Sweetwater, however, not two days 
after the meeting with the Scotchman's wagons, 
they encountered a band of a dozen mountaineers, 
mounted on fine horses, and well armed and 
equipped, traveling along without the usual ac- 
companiment of a mulada of pack-animals, two or 
three mules alone being packed with meat and 
spare ammunition. The band was proceeding at 
a smart rate, the horses moving with the gait pe- 
culiar to American animals, known as pacing or 
racking, in Indian file — each of the mountain- 
eers with a long heavy rifle resting across the 
horn of his saddle. Amongst them our two 
friends recognized Markhead, who had been of the 
party dispersed months before by the Blackfeet 
on one of the head-streams of the Yellow Stone, 
which event had been the origin of the dire suffer- 
ings of Killbuck and La Bonte. Markhead, after 
running the gauntlet of numerous Indians, through 
the midst of whose country he passed with his 
usual temerity and utter disregard to danger, suf- 
fering hunger, thirst, and cold — those everyday 
experiences of mountain life — riddled with balls, 
but with three scalps hanging from his belt, made 



IN THE OLD WEST 223 

his way to a rendezvous on Bear River, whence he 
struck out for the Platte in early spring, in time 
to join the band he now accompanied, who were 
on a horse-stealing expedition to the Missions of 
Upper California. Little persuasion did either 
Killbuck or La Bonte require to join the sturdy 
freebooters. In five minutes they had gone '' files- 
about," and at sundown were camping on the well- 
timbered bottom of Little Sandy, feasting once 
more on delicate hump-rib and tenderloin. 

For California, ho ! 

Fourteen good rifles in the hands of fourteen 
mountainmen stout and true, on fourteen strong 
horses, of true Indian blood and training — four- 
teen cool heads, with fourteen pairs of keen eyes in 
them, each head crafty as an Indian's, directing 
a right arm strong as steel, and a heart as brave 
as grizzly bear's. Before them a thousand miles 
of dreary desert or wilderness, overrun by hostile 
savages, thirsting for the white man's blood; 
famine and drought, the arrows of wily hordes of 
Indians — and, these dangers past, the invasion 
of the civilized settlements of whites, the least 
numerous of which contained ten times their num- 
ber of armed and bitter enemies — the sudden 
swoop upon their countless herds of mules and 
horses, the fierce attack and bloody slaughter ; — 
such were the consequences of the expedition these 
bold mountaineers were now engaged in. Four- 
teen lives of any fourteen enemies who would be 



224 IN THE OLD WEST 

rash enough to stay them, were, any day you will, 
carried in the rifle-barrels of these stout fellows; 
who, in all the proud consciousness of their phys- 
ical qualities, neither thought, nor cared to think, 
of future perils; and rode merrily on their way, 
rejoicing in the dangers they must necessarily 
meet. Never a more daring band crossed the 
mountains ; a more than ordinary want of caution 
characterized their march, and dangers were reck- 
lessly and needlessly invited, which even the older 
and more cold-blooded mountaineers seemed not to 
care to avoid. They had, each and all, many a 
debt to pay the marauding Indians. Grudges for 
many privations, for wounds and loss of com- 
rades, rankled in their breasts; and not one but 
had suffered more or less in property and person 
at the hands of the savages, within a few short 
months. Threats of vengeance on every Redskin 
they met were loud and deep; and the wild war- 
songs round their nightly camp-fires, and gro- 
tesque scalp-dances, borrowed from the Indians, 
proved to the initiated that they were, one and all, 
" half-froze for hair." Soon after Killbuck and 
La Bonte joined them, they one day suddenly sur- 
prised a band of twenty Sioux, scattered on a 
small prairie, and butchering some buffalo they 
had just killed. Before they could escape, the 
whites were upon them with loud shouts, and in 
three minutes the scalps of eleven were dangling 
from their saddle-horns. 



IN THE OLD WEST 225 

Struggling up mountains, slipping down preci- 
pices, dashing over prairies which resounded with 
their Indian songs, charging the Indians wherever 
they met them, and without regard to their num- 
bers ; frightening with their lusty war-whoops the 
miserable Diggers, who were not unfrequently sur- 
prised while gathering roots in the mountain 
plains, and who, scrambling up the rocks and con- 
cealing themselves, like sage rabbits, in holes and 
corners, peered, chattering with fear, as the wild 
and noisy troop rode by: scarce drawing rein, 
they passed rapidly the heads of Green and Grand 
Rivers, through a country abounding in game and 
in excellent pasture ; encountering in the upland 
valleys, through which meandered the well-tim- 
bered creeks on which they made their daily 
camps, many a band of Yutas, through whom 
they dashed at random, caring not whether they 
were friends or foes. Passing many other heads 
of streams, they struck at last the edge of the 
desert, lying along the south-eastern base of the 
Great Salt Lake, and which extends in almost un- 
broken sterility to the foot of the range of the 
Sierra Nevada — a mountain-chain, capped with 
perpetual snow, that bounds the northern extrem- 
ity of a singular tract of country, walled by 
mountains and utterly desert, whose salt lagoons 
and lakes, although fed by many streams, find 
no outlet to the ocean, but are absorbed in the 
spongy soil or thirsty sand which characterize the 



2£6 IN THE OLD WEST 

different portions of this deserted tract. In the 
Grand Basin, it is reported, neither human nor 
animal life can be supported. No oasis cheers 
the wanderer in the unbroken solitude of the vast 
wilderness. More than once the lone trapper has 
penetrated with hardy enterprise into the salt 
plains of the basin, but no signs of beaver or fur- 
bearing animal rewarded the attempt. The 
ground is scantily covered with coarse unwhole- 
some grass that mules and horses refuse to eat ; 
and the water of the springs, impregnated with 
the impurities of the soil through which it perco- 
lates, affords but nauseating draughts to the 
thirsty traveler. 

In passing from the more fertile uplands to the 
lower plains, as they descended the streams, the 
timber on their banks became scarcer, and the 
groves more scattered. The rich buffalo or 
grama grass was exchanged for a coarser species, 
on which the hard-worked animals soon grew poor 
and weak. The thickets of plum and cherry, of 
box-elder and quaking-ash, which had hitherto 
fringed the creeks, and where the deer and bear 
loved to resort — the former to browse on the 
leaves and tender shoots, the latter to de- 
vour the fruit — now entirely disappeared, 
and the only shrub seen was the eternal sage- 
bush, which flourishes everywhere in the west- 
ern regions in uncongenial soils where other 
vegetation refuses to grow. The visible change 



IN THE OLD WEST 227 

in the scenery had also a sensible effect on 
the spirits of the mountaineers. They traveled 
on in silence through the deserted plains ; the hi- 
hi-hiya of their Indian chants was no longer heard 
enlivening the line of march. More than once a 
Digger of the Piyutah tribe took himself and hair 
in safety from their path, and almost unnoticed; 
but as they advanced they became more cautious 
in their movements, and testified, by the vigilant 
watch they kept, that they anticipated hostile 
attacks even in these arid wastes. They had 
passed without molestation through the country 
infested by the bolder Indians. The mountain 
Yutas, not relishing the appearance of the 
hunters, had left them unmolested; but they were 
now entering a country inhabited by the most de- 
graded and abject of the western tribes; who, 
nevertheless, ever suffering from the extremities of 
hunger, have their brutish wits sharpened by the 
necessity of procuring food, and rarely fail to levy 
a contribution of rations, of horse or mule flesh, 
on the passenger in their inhospitable country. 
The brutish cunning and animal instinct of these 
wretches is such, that, although arrant cowards, 
their attacks are more feared than those of bolder 
Indians. These people — called the Yamparicas 
or Root Diggers — are, nevertheless, the degen- 
erate descendants of those tribes which once over- 
ran that portion of the continent of North 
America now comprehended within the boundaries 



22S IN THE OLD WEST 

of Mexico, and who have left such startling evi- 
dences in their track of a comparatively superior 
state of civilization. They now form an outcast 
tribe of the great nation of the Apache, which ex- 
tends under various names from the Great Salt 
Lake along the table-lands on each side of the 
Sierra Madre to the tropic of Cancer, where they 
merge into what are called the Mexican Indians. 
The whole of this nation is characterized by most 
abject cowardice; and they even refuse to meet 
the helpless Mexicans in open fight — unlike the 
Yuta or Comanche, who carry bold and open war- 
fare into the territories of their civilized enemy, 
and never shrink from hand-to-hand encounter. 
The Apaches and the degenerate Diggers pursue 
a cowardly warfare, hiding in ambush, and shoot- 
ing the passer-by with arrows ; or, dashing upon 
him at night when steeped in sleep, they bury 
their arrow to the feather in his heaving breast. 
As the Mexicans say, " Sin vent a j a, no salen; '* 
they never attack without odds. But they are 
not the less dangerous enemies on this account; 
and by the small bands of trappers who visit their 
country they are the more dreaded by reason of 
this cowardly and wolfish system of warfare. 

To provide against surprise, therefore, as the 
hunters rode along, flankers were extended en 
guerilla on each side, mounting the high points 
to reconnoiter the country, and keeping a sharp 
look-out for Indian sign. At night the animals 



IN THE OLD WEST S29 

were securely hobbled, and a horse-guard posted 
round them — a service of great danger, as the 
stealthy cat-like Diggers are often known to steal 
up silently, under cover of the darkness, towards 
the sentinel, shoot him with their arrows, and, ap- 
proaching the animals, cut the hobbles and drive 
them away unseen. 

One night they encamped on a creek where was 
but little of the coarsest pasture, and that little 
scattered here and there, so that they were com- 
pelled to allow their animals to roam farther than 
usual from camp in search of food. Four of the 
hunters, however, accompanied them to guard 
against surprise ; whilst but half of those in camp 
lay down to sleep, the others, with rifles in their 
hands, remaining prepared for any emergency. 
This day they had killed one of their two pack- 
mules for food, game not having been met with 
for several days ; but the animal was so poor that 
it scarcely afforded more than one tolerable meal 
to the whole party. 

A short time before the dawn of day an alarm 
was given ; the animals were heard to snort vio- 
lently; a loud shout was heard, followed by the 
sharp crack of a rifle, and the tramp of galloping 
horses plainly showed that a stampede had been 
aff'ected. The whites instantly sprang to their 
arms, and rushed in the direction of the sounds. 
The body of the cavallada, however, had luckily 
turned, and, being headed by the mountaineers, 



230 IN THE OLD WEST 

were surrounded and secured, with the loss of only 
three, which had probably been mounted by the 
Indians. 

Day breaking soon after, one of their band was 
discovered to be missing; and it was then found 
that a man who had been standing horse-guard at 
the time of the attack, had not come into camp 
with his companions. At that moment a thin 
spiral column of smoke was seen to rise from the 
banks of the creek, telling but too surely the fate 
of the missing mountaineer. It was the signal of 
the Indians to their people that a coup had been 
struck, and that an enemy's scalp remained in 
their triumphant hands. 

" H ! " exclaimed the trappers in a breath ; 

and soon imprecations and threats of revenge, 
loud and deep, were showered upon the heads of 
the treacherous Indians. Some of the party 
rushed to the spot where the guard had stood, and 
there lay the body of their comrade, pierced with 
lance and arrow, the scalp gone, and the body 
otherwise mutilated in a barbarous manner. 
Five were quickly in the saddle, mounted upon the 
strongest horses, and flying along the track of the 
Indians, who had made off towards the mountains 
with their prize and booty. We will not follow 
them in their work of bloody vengeance, save by 
sajdng that they followed the savages to their 
village, into which they charged headlong, re- 
covered their stolen horses, and returned to camp 



IN THE OLD WEST 231 

at sundown with thirteen scalps dangling from 
their rifles, in payment for the loss of their unfor- 
tunate companion.* 

In their further advance, hunger and thirst 
were their daily companions : they were compelled 
to kill several of their animals for food, but were 
fortunate enough to replace them by a stroke of 
good-luck in meeting a party of Indians return- 
ing from an excursion against one of the Cali- 
fornian settlements with a tolerably large band of 
horses. Our hunters met this band one fine morn- 
ing, and dashed into the midst at once; half-a- 
dozen Indians bit the dust, and twenty horses 
were turned over from red to white masters in as 
many seconds, which remounted those whose ani- 
mals had been eaten, and enabled the others to 
exchange their worn-out steeds for fresh ones. 
This fortunate event was considered a coup, and 
the event was celebrated by the slaughter of a fat 
young horse, which furnished an excellent supper 
that night — a memorable event in these starve- 
ling regions. 

* In Fremont's expedition to California, on a somewhat 
similar occasion, two mountaineers — one the celebrated 
Kit Carson, the other a St. Louis Frenchman named Godey, 
and both old trappers — performed a feat surpassing the 
one described above, inasmuch as they were but two. They 
charged into an Indian village to rescue some stolen horses, 
and avenge the slaughter of two New Mexicans who had 
been butchered by the Indians; both which objects they 
effected, returning to camp with the lost animals and a 
couple of propitiatory scalps. 



IN THE OLD WEST 

They were now devouring their horses and 
mules at the rate of one every alternate day ; for 
so poor were the animals that one scarcely fur- 
nished an ample meal for the thirteen hungry 
hunters. They were once more reduced to the 
animals they rode on ; and after a fast of twenty- 
four hours' duration, were debating on the pro- 
priety of drawing lots as to whose Rosinante 
should fill the kettle, when some Indians suddenly 
appeared making signs of peace upon the bluff, 
and indicating a disposition to enter the camp for 
the purpose of trading. Being invited to ap- 
proach, they offered to trade a few dressed elk- 
skins ; but being asked for meat, they said that 
their village was a long way off, and they had 
nothing with them but a small portion of some 
game they had lately killed. When requested to 
produce this they hesitated; but the trappers 
looking hungry and angry at the same moment, an 
old Indian drew from under his blanket several 
flaps of portable dried meat, which he declared 
was bear's. It was but a small ration amongst 
so many; but, being divided, was quickly laid 
upon the fire to broil. The meat was stringy, 
and of whitish color, altogether unlike any 
flesh the trappers had before eaten. Killbuck was 
the first to discover this. He had been quietly 
masticating the last mouthful of his portion, the 
stringiness of which required more than usual 
dental exertion, when the novelty of the flavor 



IN THE OLD WEST 

struck him as something singular. Suddenly his 
jaws ceased their work, he thought a moment, 
took the morsel from his mouth, looked at it in- 
tently, and dashed it into the fire. 

" Man-meat, by G — ! " he cried out ; and at the 
words every jaw stopped work: the trappers 
looked at the meat and each other. 

" I'm dog-gone if it ain't 1 " cried old Walker, 
looking at his piece, " and white meat at that, 
wagh! " (and report said it was not the first time 
he had tasted such viands;) and the conviction 
seizing each mind, every mouthful was quickly 
spat into the fire, and the ire of the deceived 
whites was instantly turned upon the luckless pro- 
viders of the feast. They saw the storm that was 
brewing, and without more ado turned tail from 
the camp, and scuttled up the bluffs, where, 
turning round, they fired a volley of arrows 
at the tricked mountaineers, and instantly disap- 
peared. 

However, the desert and its nomad pilferers 
were at length passed; the sandy plains became 
grass-covered prairies ; the monstrous cottonwood 
on the creeks was replaced by oak and ash; the 
surface of the country grew more undulating, and 
less broken up into canons and ravines ; elk and 
deer leaped in the bottoms, and bands of antelope 
dotted the plains, with occasional troops of wild 
horses, too wary to allow the approach of man. 
On the banks of a picturesque stream called the 



£34 IN THE OLD WEST 

San Joaquim the party halted a few days to re- 
cruit themselves and animals, feasting the while 
on the fattest of venison and other game. They 
then struck to the south-east for two days, until 
they reached a branch of the Las Animas, a 
clear stream running through a pretty valley, 
well timbered and abounding in game. Here, 
as they wound along the river-banks, a horseman 
suddenly appeared upon the bluff above them, 
galloping at a furious rate along the edge. His 
dress approached in some degree to civilized at- 
tire. A broad-brimmed sombrero surmounted 
his swarthy face ; a colored blanket, through a 
slit in which his head was thrust, floated in the 
air from his shoulders ; leathern leggings incased 
his lower limbs; and huge spurs jingled on his 
heels. He rode in a high-peaked INlexican saddle, 
his feet thrust in ponderous stirrups, and in his 
hand swung a coil of ready lasso, his onlj^ of- 
fensive ann. One of the trappers knew a little 
Spanish, and instantly hailed him. 

" Compadre,'" he shouted, " por onde vaf " 
The Californian reined in suddenly, throwing the 
horse he rode on its very haunches, and, darting 
down the bluff, galloped unhesitatingly into the 
midst of the hunters. 

" Americanos! " he exclaimed, glancing at 
them ; and continued, smiling — " Y cahallos 
quieren, por eso vienen tan lejitos. Jesus, que 
mala gentef " — " It's horses you want, and for 



IN THE OLD WEST 2S5 

this you come all this way. Ah, what rogues you 



are!" 

He was an Indian, employed at the Mission of 
San Fernando, distant three days' journey from 
their present position, and was now searching for 
a band of horses and mules which had strayed. 
San Fernando, it appeared, had once before been 
visited by a party of mountain freebooters, and 
the Indian therefore divined the object of the pres- 
ent one. He was, he told them, " un Indio, pero 
mansito " — an Indian, but a tame one ;* " de mas, 
Christiano " — a Christian, moreover (exhibiting 
a small cross which hung round his neck). There 
were many people about the Mission, he said, who 
knew how to fight, and had plenty of arms ; and 
there were enough to " eat up," the " Americanos, 
san frijoles,'^ without beans, as he facetiously ob- 
served. For his part, however, he was very 
friendly to the Americanos ; he had once met a 
man of that nation who was a good sort of fel- 
low, and who had made him a present of tobacco, 
of which he was particularly fond. Finding this 
hint did not take, he said that the horses and 
mules belonging to the Mission were innumerable 
■ — " like that," he added, sweeping his hand to all 
points of the compass over the plain, to intimate 
that they would cover that extent ; and he could 
point out a large herd grazing nearer at hand 

* The Mexicans call the Indians living near the Missions 
and engaged in agriculture, mansos, or mansitos, "tame." 



236 IN THE OLD WEST 

than the Mission, and guarded but by three 
vaqweros. Regaled with venison, and with a 
smoke of his coveted tobacco, he rode off, 
and made his way to the Mission without delay, 
conveying the startling intelligence that a thou- 
sand Americans were upon them. 

The next morning the thirteen doughty moun- 
taineers quietly resumed their journey, moving 
leisurely along towards the object of their expedi- 
tion. 

It will not be out of place here to digress a 
little, in order to describe the singular features of 
the establishments formed in those remote regions 
by the Catholic Church, as nwclei round which to 
concentrate the wandering tribes that inhabit the 
country, with a view to give them the benefit of 
civilized example, and to wean them from their 
restless nomadic habits. 

The establishment of Missions in Upper Cali- 
fornia is 'coeval with the first settlement of South- 
ern Mexico. No sooner had Spanish rule taken 
a firm foothold in the Aztec empire, than the 
avowed primary object of the military expedition 
began to be carried into effect. " To save the 
souls " of the savage and barbarous subjects of 
their most Catholic majesties was ever inculcated 
upon the governors of the conquered country as 
the grand object to be sought after, as soon as 
tranquillity was partially restored by the sub- 
mission of the Mexicans ; and the Cross, the sacred 



IN THE OLD WEST ^57 

emblem of the Catholic faith, was to be upraised 
in the remotest corners of the country, and the 
natives instructed and compelled to worship it, in 
lieu of the grotesque images of their own idola- 
trous religion. 

To carry into effect these orthodox instruc- 
tions, troops of pious priests, of friars and monks 
of every order, and even of saintly nuns, followed 
in the wake of the victorious armies of Cortez; 
and girding up their loins, with zealous fervor 
and enthusiasm, and with an enterprise and hardi- 
hood worthy of buccaneers, they pushed their 
adventurous way far into the bowels of the land, 
preaching devoutly and with commendable perse- 
verance to savages who did not understand a syl- 
lable of what they so eloquently discoursed; and 
returning, after the lapse of many months passed 
in this first attempt, with glowing accounts of the 
" muy huen indole,''^ the very ductile disposition 
of the savages, and of the thousands they had 
converted to " la santa fe catolica.'* 

Ferdinand and Isabel, of glorious memory, at 
once beat up for volunteers. Crowds of Francis- 
can monks, greasy Capuchinos, and nuns of 
orthodox odor, joined the band; and saints even 
of the feminine gender, long since canonized and 
up aloft amongst the goodly muster of saints and 
martyrs, put foot once more on terra firma, and, 
rosary in hand, crossed the seas to participate in 
the good work. As proof of this latter fact, one 



IN THE OLD WEST 



Venabides, a Franciscan, whose veracity is beyond 
impeachment, declared that, while preaching in 
the regions now known as New Mexico, one million 
Indians from the " rumbo " known as Cibolo, a 
mighty nation, approached his temporary pul- 
pit on the Rio Grande, and requested in a body 
the favor of being baptized. Struck with the 
singularity of this request from Indians with 
whom he had as yet held no communication, and 
with conscientious scruple as to whether he would 
be justified in performing such ceremony without 
their having received previous instruction, he hesi- 
tated a few moments before making an answer. 
At this juncture the Indians espied a medallion 
which hung around his neck, bearing the effigy of 
a certain saint of extraordinary virtue. At sight 
of this they fell on their knees before it; and it 
was some time before they found words (in what 
language does not appear) to explain to the holy 
father that the original of that effigy, which 
hung pendant from his neck, had been long 
amongst them instructing them in the elements 
of the Christian religion, and had only lately dis- 
appeared; informing them that certain reverend 
men would shortly appear in the land, who would 
finish the good work she had devoutly commenced, 
and clench the business by baptizing the one mil- 
lion miserable sinners who now knelt before El 
Padre Venabides. 

" Valgame Bios! " reverently exclaimed that 



IN THE OLD WEST 239 

worthy man, " qui milagro es este! " [what a mir- 
acle is this I hear !] and casting up his eyes, and 
speaking slowly, as if he weighed every word, and 
taxing his memory of the historical calendar of 
saints, continued, — 

" Se murio — aquella — santissima — muger — ■ 
en el amo 175 — es decir — ya hacen — mil — 
quatro — cientos — anos.'' [That most holy 
woman died in the year 175 ; that is to say, one 
thousand four hundred years ago.] 

" Oh, what a strange thing is this ! " the padre 
continues devoutly. " After so many ages spent 
in heaven in company of the angels, of most holy 
men, and of virgins the most pure — and, per- 
haps, also in the company of my worthy and es- 
teemed friend and patron, Don Vincente Car- 
vajal y Calvo, who died a few years ago in San 
Lucar Xeres (bequeathing me certain arrobas 
of dry wine, of a class I greatly esteem — for 
which act he deserved to be canonized, and, I have 
no doubt, is), the said Don Vincente Carvajal y 
Calvo being, moreover, a man of the purest and 
holiest thoughts {Dios mio! what a puchero that 
man always had on his table!) — this holy 
woman comes here, to these wild and remote 
regions ; this holy woman (who died fifteen hun- 
dred years ago), abandoning the company of 
angels, of holy men, and sanctified women and vir- 
gins, and also of Don Vincente Carvajal y Calvo 
(that worthy man!) — comes here, I say, where 



IN THE OLD WEST 



there are neither pucheros, nor garbanzos, nor 
dry wine, nor sweet wine, neither of Xeres, nor 
of Val de Pefias, nor of Peralta; where " (sobbed 
the padre, and bellowed the last word) " there is 
— nothing either to eat or to drink. Valgame 
Purisskna Maria! And what is the name of this 
holy woman? the world will ask," continues Ven- 
abides. " Santa Clara of Carmona is her name, 
one well known in my native country, who leaves 
heaven and all its joys, wends her way to the dis- 
tant wilds of New Spain, and spends years in in- 
ducting the savage people to the holy faith. 
Truly a pious work, and pleasing to God ! " * 

Thus spoke Venabides the Franciscan, and no 
doubt he believed what he said ; and many others 
in Old Spain were fools enough to believe it too, 
for the shaven heads flocked over in greater num- 
bers, and the cry was ever, '' still they come." 

Along the whole extent of the table-lands, not 
an Indian tribe but was speedily visited by the 
preaching friars and monks ; and in less than a 
century after the conquest of Mexico by the 
Spaniards, these hardy and enthusiastic frayles 
had pushed their way into the inhospitable regions 
of New Mexico, nearly two thousand miles distant 
from the valley of Anahuac. How they succeeded 
in surmounting the natural obstacles presented by 

* From a manuscript obtained in Santa F6 of New Mex- 
ico, describing the labors of the missionaries Fray Augustin 
Ruiz, Venabides, and Marcos, in the year 1585. 



IN THE OLD WEST ^41 

the wild and barren deserts they traversed — how 
they escaped the infinite peril they encountered 
at every step at the hands of the savage inhabit- 
ants of the country, with whose language they 
were totally unacquainted — is sufficient puzzle to 
those who, in the present day, have attempted a 
journey in the same regions. 

However, it is impossible not to admire the 
hardihood of these holy pioneers of civilization, 
who, totally unfitted by their former mode of life 
for undergoing such hardships as they must have 
anticipated, threw themselves into the wilderness 
with fearless and stubborn zeal. 

For the most part, however, they found the 
Indians exceedingly hospitable and well disposed; 
and it was not until some time after — when, re- 
ceiving from the missionary monks glowing, and 
not always very truthful, accounts of the riches 
of the country in which they had located them- 
selves, the governors of Mexico dispatched armed 
expeditions under adventurous desperadoes to 
take and retain possession of the said country, 
with orders to compel the submission of the na- 
tive tribes, and enforce their obedience to the 
authority of the whites — that the simple and con- 
fiding Indians began to see the folly they had 
committed in permitting the residence amongst 
them of these superior beings, whom they had 
first looked upon as more than mortal; but who, 
when strong enough to do so, were not long in 



242 IN THE OLD WEST 

throwing off the mask, and proving to the simple 
savages that thej were much " more human than 
divine." 

Thus, in the province of New Mexico, Fray 
Augustin Ruiz, with his co-preachers, Marcos and 
Venabides, were kindly received by the native in- 
habitants, and we have seen how one million (?) 
Indians came from the " rumbo " of the Cibolo, 
ready and willing to receive the baptismal sacra- 
ment. This Cibolo, or Sivulo, as it is written in 
some old MSS., is, by the way, mysteriously 
alluded to by the monkish historians who have 
written on this region, as being a kingdom in- 
habited by a very superior class of Indians to any 
met with between Anahuac and the vale of Taos 
— in the enjoyment of a high state of civilization, 
inhabiting a well-built city, the houses of which 
were three storeys high, and having attained con- 
siderable perfection in the domestic arts. This, 
notwithstanding the authority of Don Francisco 
Vasquez Coronado, who visited Cibolo, and of 
Solis and Venegas, who have guaranteed the as- 
sertion, must be received cum grano sails; but, at 
all events, the civilization of the mysterious Cibolo 
may be compared to that of the Aztec empire un- 
der Montezuma, at the time of the Spanish Con- 
quest, both being egregiously exaggerated by the 
historians of the day. Cibolo was situated on a 
river called Tegue. At this day, neither name is 
known to the inhabitants of New Mexico. If 



IN THE OLD WEST 243 

pate-shaven Venabides had held his tongue, New 
Mexico might now be in the peaceful possession 
of the Catholic Missions, and the property of the 
Church of Mexico pretty considerably enhanced 
by the valuable placeres, or gold-washings, which 
abound in that province. Full, however, of the 
wonderful miracle of Santa Clara of Carmona, 
which had been brought to light through the 
agency of the medallion at the end of his rosario, 
Fray Venabides must needs return to Spain, and 
humbug poor old Fernando, and even the more 
sensible Isabel, with wonderful accounts of the 
riches of the country he had been instrumental in 
exploring, and of the excellent disposition of the 
natives to receive the Word of God. Don Juan 
Oilate was therefore quickly dispatched to take 
possession; and in his train followed twelve Cas- 
tilian families of sangre azul, to colonize the newly- 
acquired territory. The names of these still re- 
main, disgraced by the degenerate wretches who 
now bear them, but in whom scarce a drop of blood 
remains which ever filtered from the veins of the 
paladins of Old Castile. 

Then commenced the troublous times. The 
Missions were upheld by dint of steel alone; and 
frequently the Indians rose, and often massacred 
their white persecutors. The colonists were more 
than once driven bodily from New Mexico, and 
were only reinstated by the aid of large bodies of 
armed men. 



244i IN THE OLD WEST 

In California, however, they managed these 
things better. The wily monks took care to keep 
all interlopers from the country, established them- 
selves in snug quarters, instructed the Indians in 
agriculture; and soon gained such an ascendency 
over them, that no difficulty was experienced in 
keeping them under proper and wholesome re- 
straint. Strong and commodious Missions were 
built and fortified, well stored with arms and am- 
munition, and containing sufficient defenders to 
defy attack. Luxuriant gardens and thriving 
vineyards soon surrounded these isolated stations : 
the plains waved with golden corn ; whilst domestic 
cattle, thriving on the rich pasture, and roaming 
far and near, multiplied and increased a hundred- 
fold. 

Nothing can be more beautiful than the ap- 
pearance of one of these Missions, to the traveler 
who has lately passed the arid and barren wilder- 
ness of the North-West. The adobe walls of the 
convent-looking building, surmounted by cross and 
belfry, are generally hidden in a mass of luxuriant 
vegetation. Fig-trees, bananas, cherry, and 
apple, leaf-spreading platanos, and groves of 
olives, form umbrageous vistas, under which the 
sleek monks delight to wander ; gardens, cultivated 
by their own hands, testify to the horticultural 
skill of the worthy padres; whilst vineyards yield 
their grateful produce to gladden the hearts of 
the holy exiles in these western solitudes. Vast 



IN THE OLD WEST £45 

herds of cattle roam half-wild on the plains, and 
bands of mules and horses, whose fame has even 
reached the distant table-lands of the Rocky 
Mountains, and excited the covetousness of the 
hunters — and thousands of which, from the day 
they are foaled to that of their death, never feel 
a saddle on their backs — cover the country. In- 
dians (Mansitos) idle round the skirts of these 
vast herds (whose very numbers keep them to- 
gether), living, at their own choice, upon the flesh 
of mule, or ox, or horse. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE Mission of San Fernando is situated 
on a small river called Las Animas, a 
branch of the Los Martires. The con- 
vent is built at the neck of a large plain, at 
the point of influx of the stream from the broken 
spurs of the sierra. The savanna is covered with 
luxuriant grass, kept down, however, by the count- 
less herds of cattle which pasture on it. The 
banks of the creek are covered with a lofty growth 
of oak and poplar, which, near the Mission, have 
been considerably thinned for the purpose of af- 
fording fuel and building materials for the in- 
creasing settlement. The convent stands in the 
midst of a grove of fruit-trees, its rude tower and 
cross peeping above them, and contrasting pic- 
turesquely with the wildness of the surrounding 
scenery. Gardens and orchards lie immediately 
in front of the building, and a vineyard stretches 
away to the upland ridge of the valley. The huts 
of the Indians are scattered here and there, built 
of stone and adobe, sometimes thatched with flags 
and boughs, but comfortable enough. The con- 
vent itself is a substantial building, of the style 

of architecture characterizing monastic edifices 
246 



IN THE OLD WEST Ml 

in most parts of the world. Loopholes peer from 
its plastered walls, and on a flat portion of the 
roof a comically-mounted gingall or wall-piece, 
carrying a two-pound ball, threatens the assail- 
ant in time of war. At one end of the oblong 
building, a rough irregular arch of sun-burned 
bricks is surmounted by a rude cross, under which 
hangs a small but deep-toned bell — the wonder 
of the Indian peones, and highly venerated by the 
frayles themselves, who received it as a present 
from a certain venerable archbishop of Old Spain, 
and who, whilst guarding it with reverential awe, 
tell wondrous tales of its adventures on the road 
to its present abiding-place. 

Of late years the number of the canonical in- 
mates of the convent has been much reduced — 
there being but four priests now to do the duties 
of the eleven who formerly inhabited it: Fray 
Augustin, a capuchin of due capacity of paunch, 
being at the head of the holy quartette. Augustin 
is the conventual name of the reverend father, who 
fails not to impress upon such casual visitants to 
that ultima Thdde as he deems likely to appreciate 
the information, that, but for his humility, he 
might add the sonorous appellations of Ignacio 
Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes — his family being of 
the best blood of Old Castile, and known there since 
the days of Ruy Gomez — el — Campeador — pos- 
sessing, moreover, half the " vega " of the Ebro, 
&c., where, had fate been propitious, he would now 



248 IN THE OLD WEST 

have been the sleek superior of a rich capuchin 
convent, instead of vegetating, a leather-clad 
frayle, in the wilds of California Alta. 

Nevertheless, his lot is no bad one. With 
plenty of the best and fattest meat to eat, whether 
of beef or venison, of bear or mountain mutton; 
with good wine and brandy of home make, and 
plenty of it ; fruit of all climes in great abundance ; 
wheaten or com bread to suit his palate ; a tract- 
able flock of natives to guide, and assisted in the 
task by three brother shepherds ; far from the 
strife of politics or party — secure from hostile 
attack (not quite, by the by), and eating, drink- 
ing, and sleeping away his time, one would think 
that Fray Augustin Ignacio Sabanal-Morales-y 
Fuentes had little to trouble him, and had no cause 
to regret even the vega of Castilian Ebro, held 
by his family since the days of el Campeador. 

One evening Fray Augustin sat upon an adobe 
bench, under the fig-tree shadowing the porch of 
the Mission. He was dressed in a goat-skin jer- 
kin, softly and beautifully dressed, and descend- 
ing to his hips, under which his only covering — 
tell it not in Gath ! — was a long linen shirt, reach- 
ing to his knees, and lately procured from Puebla 
de los Angeles, as a sacerdotal garment. Boots, 
stockings, or unmentionables he had none. A 
cigarito, of tobacco rolled in com shuck, was oc- 
casionally placed between his lips; whereupon 
huge clouds of smoke rushed in columns from his 



IN THE OLD WEST 249 

mouth and nostrils. His face was of a golden 
yellow color, relieved by arched and very black 
eyebrows ; his shaven chin was of most respectable 
duplicity — his corporation of orthodox dimen- 
sions. Several Indians and half-bred Mexican 
women were pounding Indian com on metates 
near at hand; whilst sundry beef-fed urchins of 
whitey-brown complexion sported before the door, 
exhibiting, as they passed Fray Augustin, a curi- 
ous resemblance to the strongly-marked features 
of that worthy padre. They were probably his 
nieces and nephews — a class of relations often 
possessed in numbers by priests and monks. 

The three remaining brothers were absent from 
the Mission: Fray Bernardo, hunting elk in the 
sierra; Fray Jose, gallivanting at Puebla de los 
Angeles, ten days' journey distant; Fray Cris- 
toval, lassoing colts upon the plain. Augustin, 
thus left to his own resources, had just eaten his 
vespertine frijolitos and chile Colorado, and was 
enjoying a post-coenal smoke of fragrant pouche 
under the shadow of his own fig-tree. 

Whilst thus employed, an Indian dressed in 
Mexican attire approached him hat in hand, and, 
making a reverential bow, asked his directions 
concerning domestic business of the Mission. 

" Hola ! friend Jose," cried Fray Augustin, in 
a thick guttural voice, " pensaba yo — I was 
thinking that it was very nearly this time three 
years ago when those malditos Americanos came 



IN THE OLD WEST 



by here and ran off with so many of our caval- 
lada." 

" True, reverend father," answered the admin- 
istrator, " just three years ago, all but fifteen 
days : I remember it well. Malditos sean — curse 
them ! " 

" How many did we kill, Jose? " 

" Quizas mdoclios — a great many, I daresay. 
But they did not fight fairly — charged right 
upon us, and gave us no time to do anything. 
They don't know how to fight, these Mericanos ; 
come right at you, before you can swing a lasso, 
hallooing like Indios hravosJ^ 

" But, Jose, how many did they leave dead on 
the field?" 

" Not one." 

"And we?" 

" Valgame Dios! thirteen dead, and many more 
wounded." 

" That's it ! Now if these savages come again 
(and the Chemeguaba, who came in yesterday, says 
he saw a large trail), we must fight adentro — 
within — outside is no go ; for, as you very prop- 
erly say, Jose, these Americans don't know how to 
fight, and kill us before — before we can kill 
them! Vaya!'' 

At this moment there issued from the door of 
the Mission Don Antonio Velez Trueba, a Gachu- 
pin — that is, a native of Old Spain — a wizened 
old hidalgo refugee, who had left the mother coun- 



IN THE OLD WEST ^1 

try on account of his political opinions, which 
were stanchly Carlist, and had found his way — 
how, he himself scarcely knew — from Mexico to 
San Francisco in Upper California, where, hav- 
ing a most perfect contempt for everything Mexi- 
can, and hearing that in the Mission of San Fer- 
nando, far away, were a couple of Spanish padres 
of sangre regular, he had started into the wilder- 
ness to ferret them out ; and having escaped all 
dangers on the route (which, however, were hardly 
dangers to the Don, who could not realize the idea 
of scalp-taking savages), had arrived with a 
whole skin at the Mission. There he was received 
with open arms by his countryman Fray Augus- 
tin, who made him welcome to all the place af- 
forded, and there he harmlessly smoked away his 
time ; his heart far away on the banks of the 
Genii and in the grape-bearing vegas of his be- 
loved Andalusia, his withered cuerpo in the sier- 
ras of Upper California. Don Antonio was the 
walking essence of a Spaniard of the ancien 
regime. His family dated from the Flood, and 
with the exception of sundry refreshing jets of 
Moorish blood, injected into the Truebas during 
the Moorish epoch, no strange shoot was ever 
engrafted on their genealogical tree. The mar- 
riages of the family were ever confined to the fam- 
ily itself — never looking to fresh blood in a sta- 
tion immediately below it, which was not hidal- 
gueno ; nor above, since anything higher in rank 



252 IN THE OLD WEST 

than the Trueba y Trueba family, no hahia, there 
was not. 

Thus, in the male and female scions of the 
house, were plainly visible the ill effects of breed- 
ing '' in and in." The male Truebas were sadly 
degenerate Dons, in body as in mind — compared 
to their ancestors of Boabdil's day; and the 
sefioritas of the name were all eyes, and eyes alone, 
and hardly of such stamp as would have tempted 
that amorous monarch to bestow a kingdom for 
a kiss, as ancient ballads tell. 

" Duena de la negra toca. 
For un heso de tu hoca, 

Diera un reyno, Boabdil; 
Y yo por ello, Crist iana, 
Te diera de buena gana 

Mil cielos, si fueran mil.'^ 

Come of such poor stock, and reared on to- 
bacco-smoke and gazpacho, Don Antonio would 
not have shone, even amongst pigmy Mexicans, 
for physical beauty. Five feet high, a framework 
of bones covered with a skin of Andalusian tint, the 
Trueba stood erect and stiff in all the conscious- 
ness of his sangre regular. His features were 
handsome, but entirely devoid of flesh, his upper 
lip was covered with a jet-black mustache mixed 
with gray, his chin was bearded " like the pard." 
Every one around him clad in deer and goat skin, 



IN THE OLD WEST 253 

our Don walked conspicuous in shining suit of 
black — much the worse for wear, it must be con- 
fessed — with beaver hat sadly battered, and 
round his body and over his shoulder an unexcep- 
tionable capa of the amplest dimensions. Ask- 
ing, as he stepped over him, the pardon of an In- 
dian urchin who blocked the door, and bowing 
with punctilious politeness to the sturdy mozas 
who were grinding com, Don Antonio approached 
our friend Augustin, who was discussing warlike 
matters with his administrador. 

" Hola ! Don Antonio, how do you find your- 
self, sir? " 

" Perfectly well, and your very humble servant, 
reverend father; and your worship also, I trust 
you are in good health?" 

" Sin nofoedad — without novelty " ; which, 
since it was one hour and a half since our friends 
had separated to take their siestas, was not im- 
possible. 

" Myself and the worthy Jose," continued Fray 
Augustin, " were speaking of the vile invasion of 
a band of North American robbers, who three 
years since fiercely assaulted this peaceful Mis- 
sion, killing many of its inoffensive inhabitants, 
wounding many more, and carrying off several of 
our finest colts and most promising mules to their 
dens and caves in the Rocky Mountains. Not 
with impunity, however, did they effect this atroc- 



^54. IN THE OLD WEST 

ity. Jose informs me that many of the assail- 
ants were killed by my brave Indians. How man}' 
said you, Jose? " 

" Quizas mo-o-ochos,^' answered the Indian. 

" Yes, probably a great multitude," continued 
the padre ; " but, unwarned by such well-merited 
castigation, it has been reported to me by a 
Chemeguaba mansito, that a band of these au- 
dacious marauders are now on the road to repeat 
the offense, numbering many thousands, well 
mounted and armed; and to oppose these white 
barbarians it behoves us to make every prepara- 
tion of defense." * 

" There is no cause for alarm," answered the 
Andaluz. "I" (tapping his breast) "have 
served in three wars: in that glorious one de la 
Independencia, when our glorious patriots drove 
the French like sheep across the Pyrenees ; in that 
equally glorious one of 1821 ; and, in the late 
magnanimous struggle for the legitimate rights 
of his majesty Charles V., King of Spain " (doffing 
his hat), " whom God preserve. With that right 
arm," cried the spirited Don, extending his shriv- 
eled member, " I have supported the throne of my 
kings — have fought for my country, mowing 
down its enemies before me ; and with it," vehe- 
mently exclaimed the Gachupin, working himself 

* From the report to the Governor of California by the 
Head of the Mission, in reference to the attacks by the 
American mountaineers. 



IN THE OLD WEST 255 

into a perfect frenzy, " I will slay these Norte 
Americanos, should they dare to show their faces 
in my front. Adios, Don Augustin Ignacio 
Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes," he cried, doffing his 
hat with an earth-sweeping bow ; " I go to grind 
my sword. Till then, adieu." 

" A countryman of mine 1 " said the frayle, ad- 
miringly, to the administrador. " With him by 
our side we need not to fear : neither Norte Ameri- 
canos, nor the devil himself, can hann us when he 
is by." 

Whilst the Trueba sharpens his Tizona, and 
the priest puffs volumes of smoke from his nose 
and mouth, let us introduce to the reader one of 
the muchachitas, who knelt grinding corn on the 
metate, to make tortillas for the evening meal. 
Juanita was a stout wench from Sonora, of Mex- 
ican blood, hardly as dark as the other women who 
surrounded her, and with a drop or two of the 
Old Spanish blood struggling with the darker In- 
dian tint to color her plump cheeks. An enagua 
(a short petticoat) of red serge was confined 
round her waist by a gay band ornamented with 
beads, and a chemisette covered the upper part of 
the body, permitting, however, a prodigal dis- 
play of her charms. Whilst pounding sturdily at 
the corn, she laughed and joked with her fellow- 
laborers upon the anticipated American attack, 
which appeared to have but few terrors for her. 
" Que vengan^^^ she exclaimed — " let them come ; 



256 IN THE OLD WEST 

they are only men, and will not molest us women. 
Besides, I have seen these white men before, in 
my own country, and they are fine fellows, very 
tall, and as white as the snow on the sierras. Let 
them come, say I ! " 

" Only hear the girl ! " cried another : " if these 
savages come, then will they kill Pedrillo, and what 
will Juanita say to lose her sweetheart?" 

" Pedrillo ! " sneered the latter ; " what care I 
for Pedrillo ? Soy, Mejicana, yo — a Mexican 
girl am I, I'd have you know, and don't demean me 
to look at a wild Indian. Not I, indeed, by my 
salvation! What I say is, let the Norte Ameri- 
canos come." 

At this juncture Fray Augustin called for a 
glass of aguardiente, which Juanita was dis- 
patched to bring, and, on presenting it, the 
churchman facetiously inquired why she wished for 
the Americans, adding, " Don't think they'll come 
here — no, no : here we are brave men, and have 
Don Antonio with us, a noble fellow, well used to 
arms." As the words were on his lips, the clat- 
tering of a horse's hoofs was heard rattling across 
the loose stones and pebbles in the bed of the 
river, and presently an Indian herder galloped up 
to the door of the Mission, his horse covered with 
foam, and its sides bleeding from spur-wounds. 

" O, padre mio! " he cried, as soon as he caught 
sight of his reverence, " menen los Americanos — 
the Americans, the Americans are upon us. Ave 



IN THE OLD WEST 257 

Maria purissima! — more than ten thosuand are 
at my heels ! " 

Up started the priest and shouted for the Don. 

That hidalgo presently appeared, armed with 
the sword that had graced his thigh in so many 
glorious encounters — the sword with which he 
had mowed down the enemies of his country, and 
by whose aid he now proposed to annihilate the 
American savages, should they dare to appear 
before him. 

The alarm was instantly given; peones, vaque- 
ros hurried from the plains ; and milpas, warned 
by the deep^toned bell, which soon rung out its 
sonorous alarum. A score of mounted Indians, 
armed with gun and lasso, dashed off to bring in- 
telligence of the enemy. The old gingall on the 
roof was crammed with powder and bullets to the 
very muzzle, by the frayle's own hand. Arms 
were brought and piled in the sala, ready for use. 
The padre exhorted, the women screamed, the men 
grew pale and nervous, and thronged within the 
walls. Don Antonio, the fiery Andaluz, alone re- 
mained outside, flourishing his whetted saber, and 
roaring to the padre, who stood on the roof with 
lighted match, by the side of his formidable can- 
non, not to be affrighted — " that he, the Trueba, 
was there, with his Tizona, ready to defeat the 
devil himself should he come on." 

He was deaf to the entreaties of the priest to 
enter. 



268 IN THE OLD WEST 

" Siempre en el f rente — Ever in the van," he 
said, " was the war-cry of the Truebas." 

But now a cloud of dust was seen approaching 
from the plain, and presently a score of horsemen 
dashed headlong towards the Mission. " El 
enemigo!" shouted Fray Augustin; and, without 
waiting to aim, he clapped his match to the touch- 
hole of the gun, harmlessly pointed to the sky, and 
crying out, " in el nomhre de Dios " — in God's 
name — as he did so, was instantly knocked over 
and over by the recoil of the piece, then was as 
instantly seized by some of the Indian garrison, 
and forced through the trap-door into the build- 
ing; whilst the horsemen (who were his own scouts) 
galloped up with the intelligence that the enemy 
was at hand, and in overwhelming force. 

Thereupon the men were all mounted, and 
formed in a body before the building, to the amount 
of more than fifty, well armed with guns or bows 
and arrows. Here the gallant Don harangued 
them, and infusing into their hearts a little of his 
own courage, they eagerly demanded to be led 
against the enemy. Fray Augustin reappeared 
on the roof, gave them his blessing, advised them 
to give no quarter, and, with slight misgivings, 
saw them ride off to the conflict. 

About a mile from the Mission, the plain grad- 
ually ascended to a ridge of moderate elevation, 
on which was a growth of dwarf oak and ilex. 
To this point the eyes of the remaining inmates 



IN THE OLD WEST 259 

of the convent were earnestly directed, as here the 
enemy was first expected to make his appearance. 
Presently a few figures were seen to crown the 
ridge, clearly defined against the clear evening 
sky. Not more than a dozen mounted men com- 
posed this party, which all imagined must be 
doubtless the vanguard of the thousand invaders. 
On the summit of the ridge they halted a few min- 
utes, as if to reconnoiter; and by this time the 
California horsemen were halted in the plain, mid- 
way between the Mission and the ridge, and dis- 
tant from the former less than half-a-mile, so that 
all the operations were clearly visible to the lookers 
on. 

The enemy wound slowly, in Indian file, down 
the broken ground of the descent; but when the 
plain was reached, they formed into something 
like a line, and trotted fearlessly towards the 
Califomians. These began to sit uneasily in their 
saddles ; nevertheless they made a forward move- 
ment, and even broke into a gallop, but soon 
halted, and again huddled together. Then the 
mountaineers quickened their pace, and their loud 
shout was heard as they dashed into the middle 
of the faltering troop. The sharp cracks of the 
rifles followed, and the duller reports of the smooth- 
bored pieces of the Califomians ; a cloud of smoke 
and dust arose from the plain, and immediately 
half-a-dozen horses, with empty saddles, broke 
from it, followed quickly by the Califomians, fly- 



^60 IN THE OLD WEST 

ing like mad across the level. The little steady 
line of the mountaineers advanced, and pufFs of 
smoke arose as they loaded and discharged their 
rifles at the flying horsemen. As the Americans 
came on, however, one was seen to totter in his sad- 
dle, the rifle fell from his grasp, and he tumbled 
headlong to the ground. For an instant his com- 
panions surrounded the fallen man, but again 
forming, dashed towards the Mission, shouting 
fierce war-whoops, and brandishing aloft their 
long and heavy rifles. Of the defeated Califor- 
nians some jumped ofl^ their horses at the door of 
the Mission, and sought shelter within ; others gal- 
loped off^ towards the sierra in panic-stricken 
plight. Before the gate, however, still paced 
valiantly the proud hidalgo, encumbered with his 
cloak, and waving with difliculty his sword above 
his head. To the priest and women, who implored 
him to enter, he replied with cries of defia^jce, 
"Viva Carlos Quintof and "Death or glory!" 
He shouted in vain to the flying crowd to halt; 
but, seeing their panic was beyond hope, he 
clutched his weapon more firmly as the Americans 
dashed at him, closed his teeth and his eyes, 
thought once of the vega of his beloved Genii, and 
of Granada la Florida, and gave himself up for 
lost. Those inside the Mission, when they ob- 
served the flight of their cavalry, gave up the de- 
fense as hopeless ; and already the charging moun- 
taineers were almost under the walls, when they 



IN THE OLD WEST 261 

observed the curious figure of the little Don mak- 
ing demonstrations of hostility. 

" Wagh ! " exclaimed the leading hunter (no 
other than our friend La Bonte), "here's a little 
critter as means to do all the fighting " ; and seiz- 
ing his rifle by the barrel, he poked at the Don 
with the butt-end, who parried the blow, and with 
such a sturdy stroke, as nearly severed the stock 
in two. Another mountaineer rode up, and, 
swinging his lasso overhead, threw the noose dex- 
terously over the Spaniard's head, and as it fell 
over his shoulders, drew it taut, thus securing the 
arms of the pugnacious Don as in a vice. 

" Quartel! " cried the latter ; " por Dios, quar- 
tel! " 

" Quarter be d ! " exclaimed one of the 

whites, who understood Spanish ; " who's a-goin' 
to hurt you, you little critter? " 

By this time Fray Augustin was waving a white 
flag from the roof, in token of surrender ; and soon 
after he appeared trembling at the door, beseech- 
ing the victors to be merciful and to spare the 
lives of the vanquished, when all and everything in 
the Mission would be freely placed at their dis- 
posal. 

" What does the nigger say ? " asked old 
Walker, the leader of the mountaineers, of the in- 
terpreter. 

" Well, he talks so queer, this boss can't rightly 
make it out." 



262 IN THE OLD WEST 

" Tell the old coon then to quit that, and make 
them darned greasers clear out of the lodge, and 
pock some corn and shucks here for the animals, 
for they're nigh give out." 

This being conveyed to him in mountain Span- 
ish, which fear alone made him understand, the 
padre gave orders to the men to leave the Mission, 
advising them, moreover, not to recommence hos- 
tilities, as himself was kept as hostage, and if a 
finger was lifted against the mountaineers, he 
would be killed at once, and the Mission burned to 
the ground. Once inside, the hunters had no fear 
of attack — they could have kept the building 
against all California ; so, leaving a guard of two 
outside the gate, and first seeing their worn-out 
animals supplied with piles of corn and shucks, 
they made themselves at home, and soon were pay- 
ing attention to the hot tortillas, meat, and chile 
Colorado which were quickly placed before them, 
washing down the hot-spiced viands with deep 
draughts of wine and brandy. It would have been 
amusing to have seen the faces of these rough 
fellows as they gravely pledged each other in the 
grateful liquor, and looked askance at the piles 
of fruit served by the attendant Hebes. These 
came in for no little share of attention, it may be 
imagined, but the utmost respect was paid to them ; 
for your mountaineer, rough and bear-like though 
he be, never by word or deed offends the modesty 
of a woman, although sometimes obliged to use a 



IN THE OLD WEST 263 

compulsory wooing, when time is not allowed for 
regular courtship, and not unfrequently is known 
to jerk a New Mexican or Calif omian beauty be- 
hind his saddle, should the obdurate parents re- 
fuse consent to their immediate union. It tickled 
the Americans not a little to have all their wants 
supplied, and to be thus waited upon, by what 
they considered the houris of paradise ; and after 
their long journey, and the many hardships and 
privations they had suffered, their present luxu- 
rious situation seemed scarcely real. 

The hidalgo, released from the durance vile of 
the lasso, assisted at the entertainment ; his sense 
of what was due to the sangre regular which ran 
in his veins being appeased by the fact that he 
sat above the wild uncouth mountaineers, these 
preferring to squat cross-legged on the floor in 
their own fashion, to the uncomfortable and novel 
luxury of a chair. Killbuck, indeed, seemed to 
have quite forgotten the use of such pieces of 
furniture. On Fray Augustin offering him one, 
and begging him, with many protestations, to be 
seated, that old mountain worthy looked at it, 
and then at the padre, turned it round, and at 
length, comprehending the intention, essayed to 
sit. This he effected at last, and sat grimly for 
some moments, when, seizing the chair by the 
back, he hurled it out of the open door, exclaim- 
ing, — " Wagh ! this coon ain't hamshot anyhow, 
and don't want such fixins, he don't ; " and gather- 



264^ IN THE OLD WEST 

ing his legs under his body, reclined in the man- 
ner customary to him. There was a prodigious 
quantity of liquor consumed that night, the 
hunters making up for their many banyans ; but 
as it was the pure juice of the grape, it had little 
or no effect upon their hard heads. They had 
not much to fear from attacks on the part of the 
Californians ; but, to provide against all emergen- 
cies, the padre and the Gachupin were '* hobbled," 
and confined in an inner room, to which there was 
no ingress nor egress save through the door which 
opened into the apartment where the mountaineers 
lay sleeping, two of the number keeping watch. 
A fandango with the Indian girls had been pro- 
posed by some of them, but Walker placed a de- 
cided veto on this. He said " they had need of 
sleep now, for there was no knowing what to-mor- 
row might bring forth; that they had a long jour- 
ney before them, and winter was coming on ; they 
would have to streak it night and day, and sleep 
when their journey was over, which would not be 
until Pike's Peak was left behind them. It was 
now October, and the way they'd have to hump it 
back to the mountains would take the gristle off a 
painter's tail." 

Young Ned Wooton was not to the fore when 
the roll was called. He was courting the Sonora 
wench Juanita, and to some purpose, for we may 
at once observe that the maiden accompanied the 
mountaineer to his distant home, and at the pres- 



IN THE OLD WEST ^65 

ent moment is sharing his lodge on Hard-scrabble 
creek of the upper Arkansa, having been duly 
and legally married by Fray Augustin before 
their departure. 

But now the snow on the ridge of the Sierra 
Madre, and the nightly frosts ; the angular flights 
of geese and ducks constantly passing overhead; 
the sober tints of the foliage, and the dead leaves 
that strew the ground ; the withering grass on the 
plain, and the cold gusts, sometimes laden with 
snow and sleet, that sweep from the distant snow- 
clad mountains ; — all these signs warn us to 
linger no longer in the tempting valley of San 
Fernando, but at once to pack our mules to cross 
the dreary and desert plains and inhospitable 
sierras ; and to seek with our booty one of the 
sheltered bayous of the Rocky Mountains. 

On the third day after their arrival, behold our 
mountaineers again upon the march, driving be- 
fore them — with the assistance of half-a-dozen 
Indians impressed for the first few days of the 
journey until the cavallada get accustomed to 
travel without confusion — a band of four hun- 
dred head of mules and horses, themselves mounted 
on the strongest and fleetest they could select from 
at least a thousand. 

Fray Augustin and the hidalgo, from the house- 
top, watched them depart — the former glad to 
get rid of such unscrupulous guests at any cost, 
the latter rather loath to part with his boon com- 



266 IN THE OLD WEST 

panions, with whom he had quaffed many a quar- 
tillo of Californian wine. Great was the grief, 
and violent the sobbing, when all the giris in the 
Mission surrounded Juanita to bid her adieu, as 
she, seated en cavalier on an easy-pacing mule, be- 
queathed her late companions to the keeping of 
every saint in the calendar, and particularly to 
the great St. Ferdinand himself, under whose espe- 
cial tutelage all those in the Mission were sup- 
posed to live. Pedrillo — poor forsaken Pedrillo 
— a sullen sulky half-breed, was overcome, not 
with grief, but with anger at the slight put upon 
him, and vowed revenge. He of the sangre regu- 
lar, having not a particle of enmity in his heart, 
waved his arm — that arm with which he had 

mowed down the enemies of Carlos Quinto and 

requested the mountaineers, if ever fate should 
carry them to Spain, not to fail to visit his quinta 
in the vega of Genii, which, with all in it, he placed 
at their worship's disposal — con muchissima 
franqueza. 

Fat Fray Augustin likewise waved his arm, but 
groaned in spirit as he beheld the noble band of 
mules and horses throwing back clouds of dust on 
the plain where they had been bred. One noble 
roan stallion seemed averse to leave his accus- 
tomed pasture, and again and again broke away 
from the band. Luckily old Walker had taken 
the precaution to secure the bell-mare of the herd, 
and mounted on her rode ahead, the animals all 



IN THE OLD WEST 267 

following their well-known leader. As the roan 
galloped back, the padre was in ecstasy. It was 
a favorite steed, and one he would have gladly ran- 
somed at any price. 

" Ya viene, ya vienel " he cried out, " now, now 
it's coming ! hurrah for the roan ! " but, under the 
rifle of a mountaineer, one of the Califomians 
dashed at it, a lasso whirling round his head, and 
turning and twisting like a doubling hare, as the 
horse tried to avoid him, at last threw the open 
coil over the animal's head, and led him back in 
triumph to the band. 

" Maldito sea aquel Indio — curse that In- 
dian ! " quoth the padre, and turned away. 

And now our sturdy band — less two who had 
gone under — were fairly on their way. They 
passed the body of their comrade who had been 
killed in the fight before the Mission; the wolves, 
or Indian dogs, had picked it to the bones ; but a 
mound near by, surmounted by a rude cross, 
showed where the Califomians (seven of whom 
were killed ) had been interred — the pile of stones 
at the foot of the cross testifying that many an 
ave maria had already been said by the poor In- 
dians, to save the souls of their slaughtered com- 
panions from the pangs of purgatory. 

For the first few days progress was slow and 
tedious. The confusion attendant upon driving 
so large a number of animals over a country with- 
out trail or track of any description, was suf- 



268 IN THE OLD WEST 

ficient to prevent speedy traveling; and the moun- 
taineers, desirous of improving the pace, resolved 
to pursue a course more easterly, and to endeavor 
to strike the great Spanish Trail, which is the 
route followed by the New Mexicans in their jour- 
neys to and from the towns of Puebla de los An- 
geles and Santa Fe. This road, however, crosses 
a long stretch of desert country, destitute alike 
of grass and water, save at a few points, the 
regular halting-places of the caravans ; and as 
but little pasture is to be found at these places at 
any time, there was great reason to fear, if the 
Santa Fe traders had passed this season, that 
there would not be sufficient grass to support the 
numerous cavallada, after the herbage had been 
laid under contribution by the traders' animals. 
However, a great saving of time would be effected 
by taking this trail, although it v/ound a consider- 
able distance out of the way to avoid the impass- 
able chain of the Sierra Nevada — the gap in 
those mountains through which the Americans had 
come being far to the northward, and at this late 
season probably obstructed by the snow. 

Urged by threats and bribes, one of the Indians 
agreed to guide the cavallada to the trail, which 
he declared was not more than five days distant. 
As they advanced, the country became wilder and 
more sterile, — the valleys through which several 
small streams coursed alone being capable of sup- 
porting so large a number of animals. No time 



IN THE OLD WEST 269 

was lost in hunting for game; the poorest of the 
mules and horses were killed for provisions, and 
the diet was improved by a little venison when a 
deer casually presented itself near the camping- 
ground. Of Indians they had seen not one; but 
they now approached the country of the Diggers, 
who infest the district through which the Spanish 
trail passes, laying contributions on the caravans 
of traders, and who have been, not inaptly, termed 
the " Arabs of the American desert." The Cali- 
fornian guide now earnestly entreated permission 
to retrace his steps, saying that he should lose his 
life if he attempted to pass the Digger country 
alone on his return. He pointed to a snow-cov- 
ered peak, at the foot of which the trail passed; 
and leave being accorded, he turned his horse's 
head towards the Mission of San Fernando. 

Although the cavallada traveled, by this time, 
with much less confusion than at first, still, from 
the want of a track to follow, great trouble and 
exertion were required to keep the proper direc- 
tion. The bell-mare led the van carrying Walker, 
who was better acquainted with the country than 
the others ; another hunter of considerable distinc- 
tion in the band, on a large mule, rode by his side. 
Then followed the cavallada, jumping and frisk- 
ing with each other, stopping whenever a blade of 
grass showed, and constantly endeavoring to 
break away to green patches which sometimes pre- 
sented themselves in the plains. Behind the troop. 



270 IN THE OLD WEST 

urging them on by dint of loud cries and objurga- 
tions, rode six mountaineers, keeping as much as 
possible in a line. Two others were on each flank 
to repress all attempts to wander, and keep the 
herd in a compact body. In this order the cara- 
van had been crossing a broken country, up and 
down ridges, all day, the animals giving infinite 
trouble to their drivers, when a loud shout from 
the advanced guard put them all upon the qui-mve. 
Old Walker was seen to brandish the rifle over 
his head and point before him, and presently the 
cry of ''The trail! the trail!" gladdened all 
hearts with the anticipation of a respite from the 
harassing labor of mule-driving. Descending a 
broken ridge, they at once struck into a distinct 
and tolerably well-worn track, into which the 
cavallada turned as easily and instinctively as if 
they had all their lives been accustomed to travel 
on beaten roads. Along this they traveled mer- 
rily — their delight being, however, alloyed by 
frequent indications that hunger and thirst had 
done their work on the mules and horses of the 
caravans which had preceded them on the trail. 
They happened to strike it in the center of a long 
stretch of desert, extending sixty miles without 
either water or pasture; and many animals had 
perished here, leaving their bones to bleach upon 
the plain. The soil was sandy, but rocks and 
stones covered the surface, disabling the feet of 
many of the young horses and mules, several of 



IN THE OLD WEST 271 

which, at this early stage of the journey, were al- 
ready abandoned. Traces of the wretched Dig- 
gers became very frequent; these abject creatures 
resorting to the sandy plains for the purpose of 
feeding upon the lizards which there abound. As 
yet they did not show ; only at night they prowled 
around the camp, waiting a favorable opportunity 
to run the animals. In the present instance, how- 
ever, many of the horses having been left on the 
road, the Diggers found so plentiful a supply of 
meat as to render unnecessary any attack upon the 
formidable mountaineers. 

One evening the Americans had encamped, 
earlier than usual, on a creek well timbered with 
willow and quaking-ash, and affording tolerable 
pasture ; and although it was still rather early, 
they determined to stop here, and give the animals 
an opportunity to fill themselves. Several deer 
had jumped out of the bottom as they entered it; 
and La Bonte and Killbuck had sallied from the 
camp with their rifles to hunt, and endeavor to 
procure some venison for supper. Along the 
river-banks herds of deer were feeding in every 
direction, within shot of the belt of timber ; and the 
two hunters had no difficulty in approaching and 
knocking over two fine bucks within a few paces 
of the thicket. They were engaged in butchering 
the animals, when La Bonte, looking up from his 
work, saw half-a-dozen Indians dodging among 
the trees, within a few yards of himself and Kill- 



n% IN THE OLD WEST 

buck. At the same instant two arrows thudded 
into the carcass of the deer over which he knelt, 
passing but a few inches from his head. Halloo- 
ing to his companion, La Bonte immediately seized 
the deer, and, lifting it with main strength, held 
it as a shield before him, but not before an arrow 
had struck him in the shoulder. Rising from the 
ground he retreated behind cover, jelling loudly 
to alarm the camp, which was not five hundred 
yards distant on the other side of the stream. 
Killbuck, when apprised of the danger, ran bodily 
into the plain, and, keeping out of shot of the 
timber, joined La Bpnte, who, now out of arrow- 
shot, threw down his shield of venison and fired his 
rifle at the assailants. The Indians appeared at 
first afraid to leave the cover; but three or four 
more joining them, one a chief, they advanced into 
the plain with drawn bows, scattering wide apart, 
and running swiftly towards the whites in a zig- 
zag course, in order not to present a steady mark 
to their unerring rifles. The latter were too cau- 
tious to discharge their pieces, but kept a steady 
front, with rifle at shoulder. The Indians evi- 
dently disliked to approach nearer; but the chief, 
an old grizzled man, incited them by word and ges- 
ture — running in advance and calling upon the 
others to follow him. 

" Ho, boy ! " exclaimed Killbuck to his com- 
panion, " that old coon must go under, or we'll 
get rubbed out by these darned critters." 



IN THE OLD WEST 273 

La Bonte understood him. Squatting on the 
ground he planted his wiping-stick firmly at the 
extent of his left arm, and resting the long barrel 
of his rifle on his left hand, which was supported 
by the stick, he took a steady aim and fired. The 
Indian, throwing out his arms, staggered and let 
fall his bow — tried hard to recover himself, and 
then fell forward on his face. The others, seeing 
the death of their chief, turned and made again 
for the cover. " You darned critters," roared 
Killbuck, " take that ! " and fired his rifle at the 
last one, tumbling him over as dead as a stone. 
The camp had also been alarmed. Five of them 
waded across the creek and took the Indians in 
rear; their rifles cracked within the timber, sev- 
eral more Indians fell, and the rest quickly beat a 
retreat. The venison, however, was not for- 
gotten; the two deer were packed into camp, and 
did the duty of mule-meat that night. 

This lesson had a seasonable effect upon the 
Diggers, who made no attempt on the cavallada 
that night or the next, for the camp remained two 
days to recruit the animals. 

We will not follow the party through all the 
difficulties and perils of the desert route, nor de- 
tail the various devilries of the Diggers, who con- 
stantly sought opportunities to stampede the ani- 
mals, or, approaching them in the night as they 
grazed, fired their arrows indiscriminately at the 
herd, trusting that dead or disabled ones would be 



274. IN THE OLD WEST 

left behind, and afford them a good supply of 
meat. In the month of December the mountain- 
eers crossed the great dividing ridge of the Rocky 
Mountains, making their way through the snowy 
barrier with the utmost difficulty, and losing many 
mules and horses in the attempt. On passing the 
ridge, they at once struck the head-springs of the 
Arkansa river, and turned into the Bayou Salade. 
Here they found a village of Arapahos, and were 
in no little fear of leaving their cavallada with 
these dexterous horse-thieves. Fortunately the 
chief in command was friendly to the whites, and 
restrained his young men ; and a present of three 
horses insured his good offices. Still, the near 
neighborhood of these Indians being hardly desir- 
able, after a few days' halt the Americans were 
again on their way, and halted finally at the junc- 
ture of the Fontaine-qui-bouille with the Arkansa, 
where they determined to constinict a winter camp. 
They now considered themselves at home, and at 
once set about building a log shanty capable of 
containing them all, and a large corral for se- 
curing the animals at night, or in case of Indian 
alarms. This they effected by felling several 
large cottonwoods, and throwing them in the form 
of a horse-shoe: the entrance, however, being nar- 
rower than in that figure, and secured by upright 
logs, between which poles were fixed to be with- 
drawn at pleasure. The house, or " fort " — as 
anything in the shape of a house is called in these 



IN THE OLD WEST ^75 

parts, where, indeed, every man must make his 
house a castle — was loopholed on all sides, and 
boasted a turf chimney of rather primitive con- 
struction, but which answered the purpose of 
drawing the smoke from the interior. Game was 
plentiful all around; bands of buffalo were con- 
stantly passing the Arkansa; and there were al- 
ways deer and antelope within sight of the fort. 
The pasture, too, was good and abundant — being 
the rich grama or buffalo grass, which, although 
rather dry at this season, still retains its fatten- 
ing qualities ; and the animals soon began to im- 
prove wonderfully in condition and strength. 

Of the four hundred head of mules and horses 
with which they had started from California, but 
one-half reached the Arkansa. Many had been 
killed for food (indeed, they had furnished the only 
provisions during the journey), many had been 
stolen by the Indians, or shot by them at night; 
and many had strayed off and not been recovered. 
We have omitted to mention that the Sonora girl 
Juanita, and her spouse Ned Wooton, remained 
behind at Roubideau's fort and rendezvous on the 
Uintah, which our band had passed on the other 
side of the mountains, whence they proceeded with 
a party to Taos in New Mexico, and resided there 
for some years, blessed with a fine family, &C.5 &c., 
&c., as the novels end. 

As soon as the animals were fat and strong, 
they were taken down the Arkansa to Bent's In- 



276 IN THE OLD WEST 

dian trading-fort, about sixty miles below the 
mouth of Fontaine-qui-bouille. Here a ready sale 
was found for them, mules being at that time in 
great demand on the frontier of the United States, 
and every season the Bents carried across the 
plains to Independence a considerable number col- 
lected in the Indian country, and in the upper set- 
tlements of New Mexico. While the mountaineers 
were descending the Arkansa a little incident oc- 
curred, and some of the party very unexpectedly 
encountered an old friend. Killbuck and La 
Bonte, who were generally compafieros, were rid- 
ing some distance ahead of the cavallada, passing 
at the time the mouth of the Huerfano or Orphan 
Creek, w4ien, at a long distance before them, they 
saw the figure of a horseman, followed by two loose 
animals, descending the bluff into the timbered 
bottom of the river. Judging the stranger to be 
Indian, they spurred their horses and galloped in 
pursuit, but the figure ahead suddenly disap- 
peared. However, they quickly followed the 
track, which was plain enough in the sandy bot- 
tom, that of a horse and two mules. Killbuck 
scrutinized the " sign," and puzzled over it a con- 
siderable time ; and at last exclaimed — " Wagh ! 
this sign's as plain as mon beaver to me; look at 
that hoss-track, boy; did ye ever see that afore? " 
" Well, I have ! " answered La Bonte, peering 
down at it : " that ar shuffle-toe seems handy to me 
now, I tell you." 



IN THE OLD WEST 277 

" The man as used to ride that hoss is long gone 
under, but the hoss, darn the old critter, is old 
Bill Williams's, I'll swar by hook." 

" Well, it ain't nothin' else," continued La 
Bonte, satisfying himself by a long look ; " it's the 
old boy's hoss as sure as shootin': and them 
Rapahos has rubbed him out at last, and raised 
his animals. Ho, boy! let's lift their hair." 

" Agreed," answered Killbuck ; and away they 
started in pursuit, determined to avenge the death 
of their old comrade. 

They followed the track through the bottom 
and into the stream, which it crossed, and passing 
a few yards up the bank, entered the water again, 
when they could see nothing more of it. Puzzled 
at this, they sought on each side the river, but 
in vain ; and, not wishing to lose more time in the 
search, they proceeded through the timber on the 
banks to find a good camping-place for the night, 
which had been their object in riding in advance 
of the cavallada. On the left bank, a short dis- 
tance before them, was a heavy growth of timber, 
and the river ran in one place close to a high bluff, 
between which and the water was an almost im- 
pervious thicket of plum and cherry trees. The 
grove of timber ended before it reached this point, 
and but few scattered trees grew in the little 
glade which intervened, and which was covered 
with tolerable grass. This being fixed upon as an 
excellent camp, the two mountaineers rode into the 



^78 IN THE OLD WEST 

glade, and dismounted close to the plum and cherry 
thicket, which formed almost a wall before them, 
and an excellent shelter from the wind. Jumping 
off their horses, they were in the act of removing 
the saddles from their backs, when a shrill neigh 
burst from the thicket not two yards behind them : 
a rustling in the bushes followed, and presently a 
man dressed in buckskin and rifle in hand, burst 
out of the tangled brush, exclaiming in an angry 
voice — 

" Do'ee hyar now? I was nigh upon gut- 
shootin' some of e'e — I was now ; thought e'e was 
darned Rapahos, I did, and cached right off." 

" Ho, Bill ! what, old boss 1 not gone under 
yet? " cried both the hunters. " Give us your 
paw." 

" Do 'ee now, if hyar arn't them boys as was 
rubbed out on Lodge Pole (creek) a time ago. 
Do'ee hyar? if this ain't some now, I wouldn't say 
so." • 

Leaving old Bill Williams and our two friends 
to exchange their rough but hearty greetings, we 
will glance at that old worthy's history since the 
time when we left him caching in the fire and 
smoke on the Indian battle-ground in the Rocky 
Mountains. He had escaped fire and smoke, or he 
would not have been here on Arkansa with his old 
grizzled Nez-perce steed. \ On that occasion the 
veteran mountaineer had lost his two pack-animals 
and all his beaver. He was not the man, however, 



IN THE OLD WEST 279 

to want a horse or mule as long as an Indian vil- 
lage was near at hand. Skulking, therefore, by 
day in canon and deep gorges of the mountains, 
and traveling by night, he followed closely on the 
trail of the victorious savages, bided his time, 
struck his " coup," and recovered a. pair of pack- 
horses, which was all he required. Ever since, he 
had been trapping alone in all parts of the moun- 
tains ; had visited the rendezvous but twice for 
short periods, and then with full packs of beaver ; 
and was now on his way to Bent's Fort, to dispose 
of his present loads of peltry, enjoy one good 
carouse on Taos whisky, and then return to some 
hole or comer in the mountains which he knew of, 
to follow in the spring his solitary avocation. He 
too had had his share of troubles, and had many 
Indian scrapes, but passed safely through all, and 
scarcely cared to talk of what he had done, so mat- 
ter-of-fact to him were the most extraordinary of 
his perilous adventures. 

Arrived at Bent's Fort, the party disposed of 
their cavallada, and then, — respect for the par- 
donable weaknesses of our mountain friends 
prompts us to draw a veil over the furious orgies 
that ensued. A number of hunters and trappers 
were in from their hunting-grounds, and a village 
of Shians and some lodges of Kioways were 
camped round the fort. As long as the liquor 
lasted — and there was good store of alcohol as 
well as of Taos whisky — the Arkansa resounded 



£80 IN THE OLD WEST 

with furious mirth, not unmixed with graver 
scenes ; for jour mountaineer, ever quarrelsome in 
his cups, is quick to give and take offense when 
rifles alone can settle the difference, and much 
blood is spilt upon the prairie in his wild and fre- 
quent quarrels. 

Bent's Fort * is situated on the left or northern 
bank of the river Arkansa, about one hundred 
miles from the foot of the Rocky Mountains — on 
a low and level bluff of the prairie which here 
slopes gradually to the water's edge. The walls 
are built entirely of adobes — or sun-burned 
bricks — in the form of a hollow square, at two 
corners of which are circular flanking towers of 
the same material. The entrance is by a large 
gateway into the square, round which are the 
rooms occupied by the traders and employes of 
the host. These are small in size, with walls col- 
ored by a whitewash made of clay found in the 
prairie. Their flat roofs are defended along the 
exterior by parapets of adobe, to serve as a cover 
to marksmen firing from the top ; and along the 
coping grow plants of cactus of all the varieties 
common in the plains. In the center of the square 
is the press for packing the furs ; and there are 
three large rooms, one used as a store and maga- 
zine, another as a council-room, where the Indians 

* Sometimes called Fort William, from one of the two 
Bent brothers who founded it in 1829. It was destroyed 
in 1852. {Ed.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 281 

assemble for their " talks," whilst the third Is the 
common dining-hall, where the traders, trappers, 
and hunters, and all employes, feast upon the best 
provender the game-covered country affords. 
Over the culinary department presided of late 
years a fair lady of color, Charlotte by name, who 
was, as she loved to say, " de onlee lady in de dam 
Injun country," and who, moreover, was celebrated 
from Long's Peak to the Cumbres Espanolas for 
slapjacks and pumpkin pies. 

Here congregate at certain seasons the mer- 
chants of the plains and mountains, with their 
stocks of peltry. Chiefs of the Shian, the Kio- 
way, and Arapaho, sit in solemn conclave with the 
head traders, and smoke the calumet over their 
real and imaginary grievances. Now 0-cun-no- 
whurst, the Yellow Wolf, grand chief of the 
Shian, complains of certain grave offenses against 
the dignity of his nation! A trader from the 
" big lodge " (the fort) has been in his village, and 
before the trade was opened, in laying the custom- 
ary chief's gift " on the prairie " has not " opened 
his hand," but " squeezed out his present between 
his fingers," grudgingly and with too sparing 
measure. This was hard to bear, but the Yellow 
Wolf would say no more ! 

Tah-kai-buhl, or, " He Who Jumps," Is deputed 
from the Kioway to warn the white traders not to 
proceed to the Canadian to trade with the Com- 
anche. That nation is mad — a " heap mad " 



282 IN THE OLD WEST 

with the whites, and has " dug up the hatchet " to 
" rub out " all who enter its country. The Kio- 
way loves the pale-face, and gives him warning 
(and " He Who Jumps " looks as if he deserves 
something " on the prairie" for his information). 

Shawh-noh-qua-mish, " The Peeled Lodge-pole," 
is there to excuse his Arapaho braves, who lately 
made free with a band of horses belonging to the 
fort. He promises the like shall never happen 
again, and he, Shawh-noh-qua-mish, speaks with a 
" single tongue." Over clouds of tobacco and 
kinnik-kinnik these grave affairs are settled and 
terms arranged. 

In the corral, groups of leather-clad mountain- 
eers, with decks of euchre and seven up, gamble 
away their hard-earned peltries. The employes 
— mostly St. Louis Frenchmen and Canadian voy- 
ageurs — are pressing packs of buffalo-skins, beat- 
ing robes, or engaged in other duties of a trading- 
fort. Indian squaws, the wives of mountaineers, 
strut about in all the pride of beads and " fofar- 
raw," jingling with bells and bugles, and happy as 
paint can make them. Hunters drop in with ani- 
mals packed with deer or buffalo meat to supply 
the fort; Indian dogs look anxiously in at the 
gateway, fearing to enter and encounter their 
natural enemies, the whites ; and outside the fort, 
at any hour of the day or night, one may safely 
wager to see a dozen cayeutes or prairie wolves 
loping round, or seated on their haunches, and 



IN THE OLD WEST 283 

looking gravely on, waiting patiently for some 
chance offal to be cast outside. Against the walls, 
groups of Indians too proud to enter without an 
invitation, lean, wrapped in their buffalo-robes, 
sulky and evidently ill at ease to be so near the 
whites without a chance of fingering their scalp- 
locks; their white lodges shining in the sun, at a 
little distance from the riverbanks — their horses 
feeding in the plain beyond. 

The appearance of the fort is very striking, 
standing as it does hundreds of miles from any 
settlement, on the vast and lifeless prairie, sur- 
rounded by hordes of hostile Indians, and far out 
of reach of intercourse with civilized man; its 
mud-built walls inclosing a little garrison of a 
dozen hardy men, sufficient to hold in check the 
numerous tribes of savages ever thirsting for their 
blood. Yet the solitary stranger passing this lone 
fort feels proudly secure when he comes within 
sight of the Stars and Stripes which float above 
the walls. 



CHAPTER VIII 

AGAIN we must take a jump with La Bonte 
over a space of several months, when we 
find him in company of half-a-dozen trap- 
pers, amongst them his inseparable companero 
Killbuck, camped on the Greenhorn Creek, en 
route to the settlements of New Mexico. They 
have a few mules packed with beaver for the Taos 
market ; but this expedition has been planned more 
for pleasure than profit — a journey to Taos 
valley being the only civilized relaxation coveted 
by the mountaineers. Not a few of the present 
band are bound thither with matrimonial in- 
tentions ; the belles of Nuevo Mejico being to them 
the ne plus ultra of female perfection, uniting most 
conspicuous personal charms (although coated 
with cosmetic alegria — an herb, with the juice of 
which the women of Mexico hideously bedaub their 
faces) with all the hard-working industry of In- 
dian squaws. The ladies, on their part, do not 
hesitate to leave the paternal abodes, and eternal 
tortilla-making, to share the perils and privations 
of the American mountaineers in the distant wil- 
derness. Utterly despising their own countrymen, 

whom they are used to contrast with the dashing 

284 



IN THE OLD WEST 285 

white hunters who swagger in all the pride of 
fringe and leather through their towns, they, as 
is but natural, gladly accept husbands from the 
latter class : preferring the stranger, who pos- 
sesses the heart and strong right arm to defend 
them, to the miserable cowardly " pelados," who 
hold what little they have on sufferance of savage 
Indians, but one degree superior to themselves. 

Certainly no band of hunters that ever appeared 
in the Vale of Taos numbered in its ranks a prop- 
erer lot of lads than those now camped on Green- 
horn, intent on matrimonial foray into the settle- 
ments of New Mexico. There was young Dick 
Wooton,* who was " some " for his inches, being 
six feet six, and as straight and strong as the 
barrel of his long rifle. Shoulder to shoulder with 
this " boy " stood Rube Herring, and not a hair's- 
breadth difference in height or size was there be- 
tween them. Killbuck, though mountain winters 
had sprinkled a few snow-flakes on his head, looked 
up to neither ; and La Bonte held his own with any 
mountaineer who ever set a trap in sight of Long's 
Peak or the Snowy Range. Marcelline — who, 
though a Mexican, despised his people and abjured 
his blood, having been all his life in the mountains 
with the white hunters — looked down easily upon 
six feet and odd inches. In form a Hercules, he 
had the symmetry of an Apollo ; with strikingly 
handsome features, and masses of long black hair 

* Still living about 1898 in Colorado. (Ed.) 



286 IN THE OLD WEST 

hanging from his slouching beaver over the shoul- 
ders of his buckskin hunting-shirt. He, as he was 
wont to say, was " no dam Spaniard, but moun- 
tainee man, wagh ! " Chabonard, a half-breed, 
was not lost in the crowd ; — and, the last in 
height, but the first in every quality which consti- 
tutes excellence in a mountaineer, whether of in- 
domitable courage or perfect indifference to death 
or danger — with an iron frame capable of with- 
standing hunger, thirst, heat, cold, fatigue, and 
hardships of every kind — of wonderful presence 
of mind and endless resources in times of peril — 
with the instinct of an animal and the moral cour- 
age of a many — who was " taller " for his inches 
than Kit Carson, paragon of mountaineers ? * 
Small in stature, and slenderly limbed, but with 
muscles of wire, with a fair complexion and quiet 
intelligent features, to look at Kit none would sup- 
pose that the mild-looking being before him was an 
incarnate devil in Indian fight, and had raised 
more hair from head of Redskins than any two 
men in the western country; and yet, thirty win- 
ters had scarcely planted a line or furrow on his 

* Since the time of which we speak, Kit Carson has dis- 
tinguished himself in guiding the several U. S. exploring ex- 
peditions under Fremont across the Rocky Mountains, and 
to all parts of Oregon and California; and for his services, 
the President of the United States presented the gallant 
mountaineer with the commission of lieutenant in a newly- 
raised regiment of mounted riflemen, of which his old leader 
Fremont is appointed colonel. (Author's note.) 



IN THE OLD WEST 287 

clean-shaven face. No name, however, was better 
known in the mountains — from Yellow Stone to 
Spanish Peaks, from Missouri to Columbia River 
— than that of Kit Carson, raised in Boonlick, 
Missouri State, and a credit to the " diggins " that 
gave him birth. 

On Huerfano or Orphan Creek, so called from 
an isolated hutte which stands on a prairie near 
the stream, our party fell in with a village of Yuta 
Indians, at that time hostile to the whites. Both 
parties were preparing for battle, when Killbuck, 
who spoke the language, went forward with signs 
of peace, and after a talk with several chiefs, en- 
tered into an armistice, each party agreeing not to 
molest the other. After trading for a few deer- 
skins, which the Yutas are celebrated for dressing 
delicately fine, the trappers moved hastily on out 
of such dangerous company, and camped under the 
mountain on Oak Creek, where they forted in a 
strong position, and constructed a corral in which 
to secure their animals at night. At this point is 
a tolerable pass through the mountains, where a 
break occurs in a range, whence they gradually de- 
crease in magnitude until they meet the sierras of 
Mexico, which connect the two mighty chains of 
the Andes and the Rocky Mountains. From the 
summit of the dividing ridge, to the eastward, a. 
view is had of the vast sea of prairie which 
stretches away from the base of the mountains, in 
dreary barrenness, for nearly a thousand miles, un- 



283 IN THE OLD WEST 

til it meets the fertile valley of the great Missouri. 
Over this boundless expanse nothing breaks the 
uninterrupted solitude of the view. Not a tree or 
atom of foliage relieves the eye; for the lines of 
scattered timber which belt the streams running 
from the mountains are lost in the shadow of their 
stupendous height, and beyond this nothing is 
seen but the bare surface of the rolling prairie. 
In no other part of the chain are the grand char- 
acteristics of the Far West more strikingly dis- 
played than from this pass. The mountains here 
rise on the eastern side abruptly from the plain, 
and the view over the great prairies is not there- 
fore obstructed by intervening ridges. To the 
westward the eye sweeps over the broken spurs 
which stretch from the main range in every direc- 
tion ; wliilst distant peaks, for the most part snow- 
covered, are seen at intervals rising isolated above 
the range. On all sides the scene is wild and dis- 
mal. 

Crossing by this path, the trappers followed the 
Yuta trail over a plain, skirting a pine-covered 
ridge, in which countless herds of antelope, tame 
as sheep, were pasturing. Numerous creeks inter- 
sect it, well timbered with oak, pine, and cedar, 
and well stocked with game of all kinds. On the 
eleventh day from leaving the Huerfano, they 
struck the Taos valley settlement on Arroyo 
Hondo, and pushed on at once to the village of 
Fernandez — sometimes, but improperly, called 



IN THE OLD WEST 289 

Taos. As the dashing band clattered through the 
village, the dark eyes of the reboso-wrapped 
muchachas peered from the doors of the adobe 
houses, each mouth armed with cigarito, which was 
at intervals removed to allow utterance to the salu- 
tation to each hunter as he trotted past of Adios 
ATnericanos, — " Welcome to Fernandez ! " and then 
they hurried off to prepare for the fandango, 
which invariably followed the advent of the moun- 
taineers. The men, however, seemed scarcely so 
well pleased ; but leaned sulkily against the walls, 
their sarapes turned over their left shoulder, and 
concealing the lower part of the face, the hand 
appearing from its upper folds only to remove 
the eternal cigarro from their lips. They, from 
under their broad-brimmed sombreros, scowled 
with little affection on the stalwart hunters, who 
clattered past them, scarcely deigning to glance at 
the sullen Pelados, but paying incomprehensible 
compliments to the buxom wenches who smiled at 
them from the doors. Thus exchanging saluta- 
tions, they rode up to the house of an old moun- 
taineer, who had long been settled here with a New 
Mexican wife, and who was the recognized enter- 
tainer of the hunters when they visited Taos 
valley, receiving in exchange such peltry as they 
brought with them. 

No sooner was it known that Los Americanos 
had arrived than nearly all the householders of 
Fernandez presented themselves to offer the use of 



290 IN THE OLD WEST 

their salas for the fandango which invariably cele- 
brated their arrival. This was always a profit- 
able event ; for as the mountaineers were generally 
pretty well flush of cash when on their spree, and 
as open-handed as an Indian could wish, the sale 
of whisky, with which they regaled all comers, 
produced a handsome return to the fortunate in- 
dividual whose room was selected for the fandango. 
On this occasion the sala of the Alcalde Don Cor- 
nelio Vegil was selected and put in order; a gen- 
eral invitation was distributed; and all the dusky 
beauties of Fernandez were soon engaged in ar- 
raying themselves for the fete. Off came the coats 
of dirt and alegria which had bedaubed their faces 
since the last " function," leaving their cheeks 
clear and clean. Water was profusely used, and 
their cuerpos were doubtless astonished by the 
unusual lavation. Their long black hair was 
washed and combed, plastered behind their ears, 
and plaited into a long queue, which hung down 
their backs. Enaguas of gaudy color (red most 
affected) were donned, fastened round the waist 
with ornamented belts, and above this a snow-white 
camisita of fine linen was the only covering, allow- 
ing a prodigal display of their charms. Gold 
and silver ornaments, of antiquated pattern, deco- 
rate their ears and necks ; and massive crosses of 
the precious metals, wrought from the gold or sil- 
ver of their own placeres, hang pendent on their 
breasts. The enagua or petticoat, reaching about 



IN THE OLD WEST 291 

half-way between the knee and ankle, displays 
their well-turned limbs, destitute of stockings, and 
their tiny feet, thrust into quaint little shoes 
(zapatitos) of Cinderellan dimensions. Thus 
equipped, with the reboso drawn over their heads 
and faces, out of the folds of which their brilliant 
eyes flash like lightning, and each pretty mouth 
armed with its cigarito, they coquettishly enter the 
fandango.* Here, at one end of a long room, are 
seated the musicians, their instruments being gen- 
erally a species of guitar called heaca, a handolin, 
and an Indian drum called tombe — one of each. 
Round the room groups of New Mexicans lounge, 
wrapped in the eternal sarape, and smoking of 
course, scowling with jealous eyes at the more fa- 
vored mountaineers. These, divested of their 
hunting-coats of buckskins, appear in their bran- 
new shirts of gaudy calico, and close-fitting buck- 
skin pantaloons, with long fringes down the out- 
side seam from the hip to the ankle; with mocca- 
sins, ornamented with bright beads and porcupine- 
quills. Each, round his waist, wears his mountain- 
belt and scalp-knife, ominous of the company he is 
in, and some have pistols sticking in their belts. 

The dances — save the mark ! — are without 
form or figure, at least those in which the white 
hunters sport the fantastic toe. Seizing his part- 

* The word fandango, in New Mexico, is not applied to 
the peculiar dance known in Spain by that name, but desig- 
nates a ball or dancing meeting. 



292 IN THE OLD WEST 

ner round the waist with the grip of a grisly bear, 
each mountaineer whirls and twirls, jumps and 
stamps ; introduces Indian steps used in the 
" scalp " or " buffalo " dances, whooping occasion- 
ally with unearthly cry, and then subsiding into 
the jerking step, raising each foot alternately 
from the ground, so much in vogue in Indian bal- 
lets. The hunters have the floor all to themselves. 
The Mexicans have no chance in such physical 
force dancing ; and if a dancing Pelado * steps 
into the ring, a lead-like thump from a gallop- 
ing mountaineer quickly sends him sprawling, with 
the considerate remark — " Quit, you darned 
Spaniard! you can't shine in this crowd." 

During a lull, guages f filled with whisky go the 
rounds — offered to and seldom refused by th^ 
ladies, sturdily quaffed by the mountaineers, and 
freely swallowed by the Pelados, who drown their 
jealousy and envious hate of their entertainers in 
potent aguardiente. Now, as the guages are oft 
refilled and as often drained, and as night ad- 
vances, so do the spirits of the mountaineers be- 
come more boisterous, while their attentions to 
their partners become warmer — the jealousy of 
the natives waxes hotter thereat, and they begin to 
show symptoms of resenting the endearments which 
the mountaineers bestow upon their wives and 

* A nickname for the idle fellows hanging about a Mexi- 
can town, translated into "Greasers" by the Americans, 
t Cask-shaped gourds. 



IN THE OLD WEST 

sweethearts. And now, when the room is filled to 
crowding, — with two hundred people swearing, 
drinking, dancing, and shouting — the half-dozen 
Americans monopolizing the fair, to the evident 
disadvantage of at least threescore scowling Pela- 
dos, it happens that one of these, maddened by 
whisky and the green-eyed monster, suddenly seizes 
a fair one from the waist-encircling arm of a moun- 
taineer, and pulls her from her partner. Wagh! 
— La Bonte — it is he — stands erect as a pillar 
for a moment, then raises his hand to his mouth 
and gives a ringing war-whoop — jumps upon the 
rash Pelade, seizes him by the body as if he were a 
child, lifts him over his head, and dashes him with 
the force of a giant against the wall. 

The war, long threatened, has commenced; 
twenty Mexicans draw their knives and rush upon 
La Bonte, who stands his ground, and sweeps them 
down with his ponderous fist, one after another, as 
they throng around him. " Howgh-owgh-owgh- 
owgh-h ! " the well-known war-whoop, bursts from 
the throats of his companions, and on they rush 
to the rescue. The women scream, and block the 
door in their eagerness to escape; and thus the 
Mexicans are compelled to stand their ground 
and fight. Knives glitter in the light, and quick 
thrusts are given and parried. In the center of 
the room the whites stand shoulder to shoulder, 
covering the floor with Mexicans by their stalwart 
blows ; but the odds are fearful against them, and 



^94 IN THE OLD WEST 

other assailants crc 1 up to supply the place of 
those wl.o fall. 

The alarm beii^g given by the shrieking women, 
rei'nforccn.cnts of Pelados rushed to the scene of 
action, but could not enter the room, which was al- 
ready full. The odds began to tell against the 
mountaineers, when Kit Carson's quick eye caught 
sight of a high stool or stone, supported by three 
long heavy legs. In a moment he had cleared his 
way to this, and in another the three legs were 
broken off and in the hands of himself, Dick 
Wooton, and La Bonte. Sweeping them round 
their heads, down came the heavy weapons amongst 
the Mexicans with wonderful effect, ^t this the 
mountaineers gave a hearty whoop, and charged 
the wavering enemy with such resistless vigor, that 
they gave way and bolted through the door, leav- 
ing the floor strewed with wounded, many most 
dangerously ; for, as may be imagined, a thrust 
from the keen scalp-knife by the nervous arm of a 
mountaineer was no bab}' blow, and seldom failed 
to strike home — up to the " Green River " * on 
the blade. 

The field being won, the whites, too, beat a quick 
retreat to the house where they were domiciled, and 
where they had left their rifles. Without their 

* The knives used by the hunters and trappers are manu- 
factured at the " Green River " works, and have that name 
stamped upon the blade. Hence the mountain term for 
doing anything effectual is " up to Green River." 



IN THE OLD WEST ^95 

trusty weapons they felt, indeed, unarmed; and 
not knowing how the affair just over would be fol- 
lowed up, lost no time in making preparations for 
defense. However, after great blustering on the 
part of the prefecto, who, accompanied by a 
posse comitatus of " Greasers," proceeded to the 
house, and demanded the surrender of all concerned 
in the affair — which proposition was received with 
a yell of derision — the business was compounded 
by the mountaineers promising to give sundry dol- 
lars to the friends of two of the Mexicans who died 
during the night of their wounds, and to pay for a 
certain amount of masses to be sung for the repose 
of their souls in purgatory. Thus the affair blew 
over; but for several days the mountaineers never 
showed themselves in the streets of Fernandez with- 
out their rifles on their shoulders, and refrained 
from attending fandangos for the present, and un- 
til the excitement had cooled down. 

A bitter feeling, however, existed on the part of 
the men ; and one or two offers of a matrimonial 
nature were rejected by the papas of certain ladies 
who had been wooed by some of the white hunters, 
and their hands formally demanded from their re- 
spective padres. 

La Bonte had been rather smitten with the 
charms of one Dolores Salazar — a buxom lass, 
more than three parts Indian in her blood, but con- 
fessedly the beauty of the Vale of Taos. She, by 



296 IN THE OLD WEST 

dint of eye, and of nameless acts of elaborate co- 
quetry, with which the sex so universally bait their 
traps, whether in the salons of Belgravia or the 
rancherias of New Mexico, contrived to make con- 
siderable havoc in the heart of our mountaineer; 
and when once Dolores saw she had made an im- 
pression, she followed up her advantage with all 
the arts the most civilized of her sex could use when 
fishing for a husband. 

La Bonte, however, was too old a hunter to be 
easily caught; and before committing himself, he 
sought the advice of his tried companion, Killbuck. 
Taking him to a retired spot without the village, 
he drew out his pipe and charged it — seated him- 
self cross-legged on the ground, and with Indian 
gravity, composed himself for a " talk." 

" Ho, Killbuck ! " he began, touching the ground 
with the bowl of his pipe, and then turning the 
stem upwards for medicine — " Hyar's a child feels 
squamptious-like, and, nigh upon gone beaver, he 
is — Wagh ! " 

" Wagh ! " exclaimed Killbuck, all attention. 

" Old boss," continued the other, " thar's no use 
caching anyhow what a nigger feels — so hyar's 
to put out. You're good for beaver / know; at 
deer or huffier, or darned Red Injun either, you're 
some. Now that's a fact. Off-hand, or with a 
rest, you make 'em come. You knows the sign of 
Injuns slick — Blackfoot or Sioux, Pawnee or 
Burntwood, Teton, Rapaho, Shian, or Shoshonee, 



IN THE OLD WEST 297 

Yutah, Piyutah, or Yamhareek — their trail's as 
plain as writin', old hoss, to you." 

" Wagh ! " grunted Killbuck, blushing bronze at 
all these compliments. 

" Your sight ain't bad. Elks is elk ; black-tailed 
deer ain't white-tails ; and b'ar is b'ar to you, and 
nothin' else, a long mile off and more." 

"Wa-agh!" 

" Thar ain't a track as leaves its mark upon the 
plains or mountains but you can read ofF-hand; 
that I've see'd myself. But tell me, old hoss, can 
you make understand the sign as shows itself in a 
woman's breast.^ " 

Killbuck removed the pipe from his mouth, raised 
his head, and puffed a rolling cloud of smoke into 
the air, — knocked the ashes from the bowl, like- 
wise made his medicine — and answered thus : — 

" From Red River, away up north among the 
Britishers, to Heely (Gila) in the Spanish country 
— from old Missoura to the Sea of Californy, I've 
trapped and hunted. I knows the Injuns and 
thar sign, and they* knows me, I'm thinkin'. Thirty 
winters has snowed on me in these hyar mountains, 
and a nigger or a Spaniard * would lam some in 
that time. This old tool " (tapping his rifle) 
" shoots center, she does ; and if thar's game afoot, 
this child knows bull from cow, and ought to could. 
That deer is deer, and goats is goats, is plain as 

* Always alluding to Mexicans, who are invariably called 
Spaniards by the Western Americans. 



298 IN THE OLD WEST 

paint to any but a greenhorn. Beaver's a cunning 
critter, but I've trapped a heap ; and at killing 
meat when meat's a-running, I'll shine in the big- 
gest kind of crowd. For twenty year I packed a 
squaw along. Not one, but a many. First I had 
a Blackfoot — the darndest slut as ever cried for 
fofarraw. I lodge-poled her on Colter's Creek, 
and made her quit. My buffler boss, and as good 
as four packs of beaver, I gave for old Bull-tail's 
daughter. He was head chief of the Ricaree, and 
came nicely round me. Thar wasn't enough scar- 
let cloth, nor beads, nor vermilion in Sublette's 
packs for her. Traps wouldn't buy her all the fo- 
farraw she wanted; and in two years I'd sold her 
to Cross-Eagle for one of Jake Hawken's guns — 
this very one I hold in my hands. Then I tried 
the Sioux, the Shian, and a Digger from the other 
side, who made the best moccasin as ever I wore. 
She was the best of all, and was rubbed out by the 
Yutas in the Bayou Salade. Bad was the best; 
and after she was gone under I tried no more. 

" Afore I left the settlements I know'd a white 
gal, and she was some punkins. I have never see'd 
nothing as 'ould beat her. Red blood won't shine 
any ways you fix it ; and though I'm h — for sign, 
a woman's breast is the hardest kind of rock to 
me, and leaves no trail that I can see of. I've 
hearn you talk of a gal in Memphis County ; 
Mary Brand you called her oncest. The gal I 
said I know'd, her name I disremember, but she 



IN THE OLD WEST 299 

stands before me as plain as Chimley Rock on 
Platte, and thirty year and more harn't changed a 
feature in her face, to me. 

" If you ask this child, he'll tell you to leave 
the Spanish slut to her Greasers, and hold on till 
you take the trail to old Missoura, whar white and 
Christian gals are to be had for axing. Wagh ! " 

La Bonte rose to his feet. The mention of 
Mary Brand's name decided him ; and he said — 

" Darn the Spaniard ! she can't shine with me. 
Come, old boss ! let's move." 

And shouldering their rifles, the two companeros 
returned to the Ranch. More than one of the 
mountaineers had fulfilled the object of their jour- 
ne}^, and had taken to themselves a partner from 
amongst the belles of Taos, and now they were pre- 
paring for their return to the mountains. Dick 
Wooton was the only unfortunate one. He had 
wooed a damsel whose parents peremptorily for- 
bade their daughter to wed the hunter, and he 
therefore made ready for his departure with con- 
siderable regret. 

The day came, however. The band of moun- 
taineers were already mounted, and those with 
wives in charge were some hours on the road, leav- 
ing the remainder quaffing many a stirrup-cup be-, 
fore they left. Dick Wooton was as melancholy 
as a buff^alo bull in spring; and as he rode down 
the village, and approached the house of his lady- 
love, who stood wrapped in reboso, and cigarito in 



•^00 IN THE OLD WEST 

mouth, on the sill of the door, he turned away his 
head as if dreading to say adios. La Bonte rode 
beside him, and a thought struck him. 

"Ho, Dick!" he said, *Uhar's the gal, and 
thar's the mountains: shoot sharp's the word." 

Dick instantly understood him, and was " him- 
self again." He rode up to the girl as if to bid 
her adieu, and she came to meet him. Whispering 
one word, she put her foot upon his, was instantly 
seized round the waist, and placed upon the horn 
of his saddle. He struck spurs into his horse, and 
in a minute was out of sight ; his three companions 
covering his retreat, and menacing with their 
rifles the crowd which was soon drawn to the spot 
by the cries of the girl's parents, who had been 
astonished spectators of the daring rape. 

The trapper and his bride, however, escaped 
scatheless, and the w^hole party effected a safe 
passage of the mountains, and reached the Ark- 
ansa, where the band was broken up, — some pro- 
ceeding to Bent's Fort, and others to the Platte, 
amongst whom were Killbuck and La Bonte, still 
in company. 

These two once more betook themselves to trap- 
ping, the Yellow Stone being their chief hunting- 
ground. But we must again leap over months and 
years, rather than conduct the reader through all 
their perilous wanderings, and at last bring him 
back to the camp on Bijou, where we first intro- 
duced him to our mountaineers ; and as we have al- 



IN THE OLD WEST 301 

ready followed them on the Arapaho trail, which 
they pursued to recover their stolen animals from 
a band of that nation, we will once again seat our- 
selves at the camp on Boiling Spring, where they 
had met a strange hunter on a solitary expedition 
to the Bayou Salade, whose double-barreled rifle 
had excited their wonder and curiosity. 

From him they learned also that a large band 
of Mormons were wintering on the Arkansa, en 
route to the Great Salt Lake and Upper Califor- 
nia; and as our hunters had before fallen in with 
the advanced-guard of these fanatic emigrants, and 
felt no little wonder that such helpless people 
should undertake so long a journey through the 
wilderness, the stranger narrated to them the his- 
tory of the sect, which we shall shortly transcribe 
for the benefit of the reader. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE Mormons were originally of the sect 
known as Latter-day Saints, which flour- 
ishes wherever Anglo-Saxon gulls are found 
in sufficient numbers to swallow the egregious 
nonsense of fanatic humbugs who fatten upon their 
credulity. In the United States they especially 
abounded ; but the creed becoming " slow," one 
Joe Smith, a smart man, rose from its ranks and 
instilled a little life into the decaying sect. 

Joe, better known as the " Prophet Joe," was 
taking his siesta one fine day upon a hill in New 
York State, when an angel suddenly appeared to 
him, and made known the locality of a new Bible 
or Testament, which contained the history of the 
lost tribes of Israel; that these tribes were no 
other than the Indian nations which possessed the 
continent of America at the time of its discovery, 
and the remains of which still existed in their sav- 
age state ; that through the agency of Joe these 
were to be reclaimed, collected into the bosom of a 
church to be there established, according to prin- 
ciples which would be found in the wonderful book 
■-. — and which church was gradually to receive into 

its bosom all other churches, sects, and persuasions, 
302 



IN THE OLD WEST 303 

with " unanimity of belief and perfect brother- 
hood." 

After a certain probation, Joe was led in body 
and spirit to the mountain by the angel who first 
appeared to him ; was pointed out the position of 
the wonderful book, which was covered by a flat 
stone, on which would be found a pair of magic 
spectacles, called Urim and Thummim, and 
through the agency of which the mystic charac- 
ters inscribed on the pages of the book were to be 
deciphered and translated. Joe found the spot in- 
dicated without any difficulty, cleared away the 
earth, and discovered a hollow place foniied by 
four flat stones, on removing the topmost one of 
which sundry plates of brass presented themselves, 
covered with quaint and antique carving; on the 
top lay Urim and Thummim (commonly known to 
the Mormons as Mummum and Thummum, the 
spectacles of wonderful virtue), through which the 
miracle of reading the plates of brass was to be 
performed. 

Joe Smith, on whom the mantle of Moses had so 
suddenly fallen, carefully removed the plates and 
hid them, burying himself in woods and mountains 
whilst engaged in the work of translation. How- 
ever, he made no secret of the important task im- 
posed upon him, nor of the great work to which he 
had been called. Numbers at once believed him, 
but not a few were deaf to belief, and openly de- 
rided him. Being persecuted (as the sect declares, 



304. IN THE OLD WEST 

at the instigation of the authorities), and many 
attempts being made to steal his precious treasure, 
Joe one fine night packed his plates in a sack of 
beans, bundled them into a Jersey wagon, and 
made tracks for the West. Here he completed the 
great work of translation, and not long after gave 
to the world the " Book of Mormon," a work as 
bulky as the Bible, and called " of Mormon," for 
so was the prophet named by whose hand the his- 
tory of the lost tribes had been handed down in 
the plates of brass thus miraculously preserved for 
thousands of years, and brought to light through 
the agency of Joseph Smith. 

The fame of the Book of Mormon spread over all 
America, and even to Great Britain and Ireland. 
Hundreds of proselytes flocked to Joe, to hear from 
his lips the doctrine of Mormonism ; and in a very 
brief period the Mormons became a numerous and 
recognized sect, and Joe was at once, and by uni- 
versal acclamation, installed as the head of the 
Mormon Church, and was ever after known by the 
name of the " Prophet Joseph." 

However, from certain peculiarities in their so- 
cial system, the Mormons became rather unpopular 
in the settled States, and at length moved bodily 
into Missouri, where they purchased several tracts 
of land in the neighborhood of Independence. 
Here they erected a large building, which they 
called the Lord's Store, where goods were collected 
on the common account, and retailed to members 



IN THE OLD WEST 305 

of the Church at moderate prices. All this time 
their numbers increased in a wonderful manner, 
and immigrants from all parts of the States, as 
well as Europe, continually joined them. As they 
became stronger, they grew bolder and more arro- 
gant in their projects. They had hitherto been 
considered as bad neighbors, on account of their 
pilfering propensities, and their utter disregard of 
the conventional decencies of society — exhibiting 
the greatest immorality, and endeavoring to estab- 
lish amongst their society an indiscriminate con- 
cubinage. This was sufficient to produce an ill 
feeling against them on the part of their neighbors, 
the honest Missourians ; but they still tolerated 
their presence amongst them, until the Saints 
openly proclaimed their intention of seizing upon 
the country, and expelling by force the present oc- 
cupants — giving, as their reason, that it had 
been revealed to their prophets that the " Land of 
Zion " was to be possessed by themselves alone. 
The sturdy Missourians began to think this was 
a little too strong, and that, if they permitted such 
aggressions any longer, they would be in a fair 
way of being despoiled of their lands by the Mor- 
mon interlopers. At length matters came to a 
crisis, and the Saints, emboldened by the impunity 
with which they had hitherto carried out their 
plans, issued a proclamation, to the effect that all 
in that part of the country who did not belong 
to the Mormon persuasion must " clear out," and 



S06 IN THE OLD WEST 

give up possession of their lands and houses. The 
Missourians collected in a body, burned the print- 
ing-press from which the proclamation had ema- 
nated, seized several of the Mormon leaders, and, 
after inflicting a summary chastisement, tarred 
and feathered them, and let them go. 

To revenge this insult, the Mormons marshaled 
an army of Saints, and marched upon Independ- 
ence, threatening vengeance against the town and 
people. Here they met, however, a band of sturdy 
backwoodsmen, armed with rifles, determined to de- 
fend the town against the fanatic mob, who, not 
relishing their appearance, refused the encounter, 
and surrendered their leaders at the first demand. 
The prisoners were afterwards released, on con- 
dition that the Mormons left that part of the coun- 
try without delay. 

Accordingly they once more " took up their 
beds and walked," crossing the Missouri to Clay 
County, where they established themselves, and 
would finally have formed a thriving settlement 
but for their own acts of willful dishonesty. At 
this time their blasphemous mummery knew no 
bounds. Joe Smith, and other prophets who had 
lately arisen, were declared to be chosen of God; 
and it was the general creed that, on the day of 
judgment, the former would take his stand on the 
right hand of the judgment-seat, and that none 
would pass into the kingdom of heaven without his 
seal and touch. One of their tenets was the faith 



IN THE OLD WEST 307 

in " spiritual matrimony." No woman, it ap- 
peared, would be admitted into heaven unless 
" passed " by a saint. To qualify them for this, 
it was necessary that the woman should first be 
received by the guaranteeing Mormon as an 
" earthly wife," in order that he did not pass in 
any of whom he had no knowledge. The conse- 
quence of this state of things may be imagined. 
The most debasing immorality was a precept of 
the order, and an almost universal concubinage 
existed amongst the sect, which at this time num- 
bered at least forty thousand. Their disregard 
to the laws of decency and morality was such as 
could not be tolerated in any class of civilized 
society. 

Again did the honest Missourians set their faces 
against this pernicious example, and when the 
county to which the Mormons had removed be- 
came more thickly settled, they rose to a man 
against the modem Gomorrah. The Mormons, 
by this time, having on their part gained con- 
siderable accession to their strength, thought to 
set the laws at defiance, organized and armed large 
bodies of men, in order to maintain the ascendency 
over the legitimate settlers, and bid fair to con- 
stitute an imperiu/m in imperio in the State, and 
become the sole possessors of the public lands. 
This, of course, could not be tolerated. Gover- 
nor Boggs at once ordered out a large force of 
State militia to put down this formidable demon- 



308 IN THE OLD WEST 

stration, marched against the Mormons, and sup- 
pressed the insurrectionary movement without 
bloodshed. 

From Clay County they moved still farther into 
the wilds, and settled at last in Caldwell County, 
where they built the town of Far West, and here 
they remained for the space of three years. 

During this time they were continually receiv- 
ing converts to the faith, and many of the more 
ignorant country people were disposed to join 
them, being only deterred by the fear of incurring 
ridicule from the stronger-minded. The body of 
the Mormons seeing this, called upon their 
prophet, Joe Smith, to perform a miracle in pub- 
lic before all comers, which was to prove to those 
of their own people who still doubted the doctrine, 
the truth of what it advanced (the power of per- 
forming miracles was steadfastly declared to be 
in their hands by the prophets), and to enlist 
those who wavered in the Mormon cause. 

The prophet instantly agreed, and declared that, 
upon a certain day he would walk across the broad 
waters of the Missouri without wetting the soles 
of his feet. On the appointed day the river-banks 
were thronged by an expectant crowd. The Mor- 
mons sang hymns of praise in honor of their 
prophet, and were proud of the forthcoming mir- 
acle, which was to set finally at rest all doubt 
as to his power and sanctity. 

This power of performing miracles and effect- 



IN THE OLD WEST 309 

ing miraculous cures of the sick, was so generally 
believed by the Mormons, that physic was never 
used amongst them. The prophets visited the 
beds of the sick, and laid hands upon them, and 
if, as of course was almost invariably the case, 
the patient died, it was attributed to his or her 
want of faith ; but if, on the contrary, the patient 
recovered, there was universal glorification on the 
miraculous cure. 

Joe Smith was a tall fine-looking man, of most 
plausible address, and possessed the gift of the 
gab in great perfection. At the time appointed 
for the performance of the walking^water miracle, 
he duly attended on the river's bank, and descended 
barefoot to the edge of the water. 

" My brethren ! " he exclaimed, in a loud voice, 
" this day is a happy one to me, to us all, who 
venerate the great and only faith. The truth of 
our great and blessed doctrine will now be proved 
before the thousands I see around me. You have 
asked me to prove by a miracle that the power of 
the prophets of old has been given to me. I say 
unto you, not only to me, but to all who have 
faith. I have faith, and can perform miracles — 
that faith empowers me to walk across the broad 
surface of that mighty river without wetting the 
soles of my unworthy feet ; but if ye are to see 
this miracle perforaied, it is necessary that ye 
have faith also, not only in yourselves, but in me. 
Have ye this faith in yourselves ? " 



310 IN THE OLD WEST 

" We have, we have ! " roared the crowd. 

" Have ye the faith in me, that ye believe I 
can perform this miracle? " 

" We have, we have ! " roared the crowd. 

" Then," said Joe Smith, coolly walking away, 
"with such faith do ye know well that I could, 
but it boots not that I sJiould, do it; therefore, 
my brethren, doubt no more " — and Joe put on 
his boots and disappeared. 

Being again compelled to emigrate, the Mor- 
mons proceeded into the state of Illinois, where, 
in a beautiful situation, they founded the new 
Jerusalem, which, it had been declared by the 
prophet Mormon, should rise out of the wilder- 
ness of the west, and where the chosen people 
should be collected under one church, and gov- 
erned by the elders after a " spiritual fashion." 

The city of Nauvoo soon became a large and 
imposing settlement. An enormous building, 
called the Temple of Zion, was erected, half church, 
half hotel, in which Joe Smith and the other 
prophets resided — and large store-houses were 
connected with it, in which the goods and chattels 
belonging to the community were kept for the com- 
mon good. 

However, here, as everywhere else, they were 
continually quarreling with their neighbors ; and 
as their numbers increased, so did their audacity. 
A regular Mormon militia was again organized 
and armed, under the command of experienced of- 



IN THE OLD WEST 311 

ficers who had joineid the sect ; and now the author- 
ity of the state government was openly defied. 
In consequence, the executive took measures to 
put down the nuisance, and a regular war com- 
menced, and was carried on for some time, with 
no little bloodshed on both sides ; and this armed 
movement is known in the United States as the 
Mormon war. The Mormons, however, who, it 
seemed, were much better skilled in the use of the 
tongue than the rifle, succumbed: the city of 
Nauvoo was taken, Joe Smith and other ring- 
leading prophets captured ; and the former, in an 
attempt to escape from his place of confinement, 
was seized and shot. The Mormons declare he 
had long foretold his own fate ; and that when the 
rifles of the firing party who were his executioners 
were leveled at the prophet's breast, a flash of 
lightning struck the weapons from their hands, 
and blinded for a time the eyes of the sacrilegious 
soldiers. 

With the death of Joe Smith the prestige of the 
Mormon cause declined; but still thousands of 
proselytes joined them annually, and at last the 
state took measures to remove them altogether, 
as a body, from the country. 

Once again they fled, as they themselves term 
it, before the persecutions of the ungodly! But 
this time their migration was far beyond the reach 
of their enemies, and their intention was to place 
between them the impassable barrier of the Rocky 



3ia IN THE OLD WEST 

Mountains, and to seek a home and resting-place 
in the remote regions of the Far West. 

This, the most extraordinary migration of mod- 
ern times commenced in the year 1845 ; but it was 
not till the following year that the great body of 
the Mormons turned their backs upon the settle- 
ments of the United States, and launched boldly 
out into the vast and barren prairies, without any 
fixed destination as a goal to their endless journey. 
For many months long strings of Pittsburgh and 
Conestoga wagons, with herds of horses and do- 
mestic cattle, wound their way towards the Indian 
frontier, with the intention of rendezvousing at 
Council Bluffs on the Upper Missouri. Here 
thousands of wagons were congregated, with their 
tens of thousands of men, women, and children, 
anxiously waiting the route from the elders of the 
Church, who on their parts scarcely knew whither 
to direct the steps of the vast crowd they had set 
in motion. At length the indefinite destination of 
Oregon and California was proclaimed, and the 
long train of emigrants took up the line of march. 
It was believed the Indian tribes would immedi- 
ately fraternize with the Mormons on their ap- 
proaching their country; but the Pawnees quickly 
undeceived them by running off with their stock 
on every opportunity. Besides these losses, at 
every camp, horses, sheep, and oxen strayed away 
and were not recovered, and numbers died from 
fatigue and want of provender; so that, before 



IN THE OLD WEST 313 

they had been many weeks on their j ourney, nearly 
all their cattle, which they had brought to stock 
their new country, were dead or missing, and those 
that were left were in most miserable condition. 

They had started so late in the season that the 
greater part were compelled to winter on the 
Platte, on Grand Island, and in the vicinity, where 
they endured the greatest privations and suffer- 
ing from cold and hunger. Many who had lost 
their stock lived upon roots and pig-nuts ; and 
scurvy, in a most malignant form, and other dis- 
orders, carried off numbers of the wretched 
fanatics. 

Amongst them were many substantial farmers 
from all parts of the United States, who had given 
up their valuable farms, sold off all their property, 
and were dragging their irresponsible and unfor- 
tunate families into the wilderness — carried away 
by their blind and fanatic zeal in this absurd and 
incredible faith. There were also many poor 
wretches from different parts of England, mostly 
of the farm-laboring class, with wives and families, 
crawling along with helpless and almost idiotic 
despair, but urged forward by the fanatic leaders 
of the movement, who promised them a land flow- 
ing with milk and honey to reward them for all 
their hardships and privations. 

Their numbers were soon reduced by want and 
disease. When too late, they often wished them- 
selves back in the old country, and sighed many a 



314. IN THE OLD WEST 

time for the beer and bacon of former days, now 
preferable to the dry buffalo-meat (but seldom 
obtainable) of the Far West. 

Evil fortune pursued the Mormons, and dogged 
their steps. The year following, some struggled 
on towards the promised land, and of these a few 
reached Oregon and California. Many were 
killed by hostile Indians; many perished of hun- 
ger, cold, and thirst, in passing the great wilder- 
ness ; and many returned to the States, penniless 
and crestfallen, and heartily cursing the moment 
in which they had listened to the counsels of the 
Mormon prophet. The numbers who reached 
their destination of Oregon, California, and the 
Great Salt Lake, are computed at 20,000, of 
whom the United States had an unregretted rid- 
dance. 

One party had followed the troops of the Ameri- 
can Government intended for the conquest of New 
Mexico and the Californias. Of these a battalion 
was formed, and part of it proceeded to Upper 
California; but the way being impracticable for 
wagons, some seventy families proceeded up the 
Arkansa, and wintered near the mountains, in- 
tending to cross to the Platte the ensuing spring, 
and join the main body of emigrants on their way 
by the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains. 

In the wide and well-timbered bottom of the 
Arkansa, the Mormons had erected a street of 
log shanties in which to pass the inclement winter. 



IN THE OLD WEST 315 

These were built of rough logs of cottonwood 
laid one above the other, the interstices filled with 
mud, and rendered impervious to wind or wet. 
At one end of the row of shanties was built the 
church or " temple " — a long building of huge 
logs, in which the prayer-meetings and holdings- 
forth took place. The band wintering on the 
Arkansa were a far better class than the generality 
of Mormons, and comprised many wealthy and 
respectable farmers from the western states, most 
of whom were accustomed to the life of woodmen, 
and were good hunters. Thus they were enabled 
to support their families upon the produce of their 
rifles, frequently sallying out to the nearest point 
of the mountains with a wagon, which they would 
bring back loaded with buffalo, deer, and elk 
meat, thereby saving the necessity of killing any 
of their stock of cattle, of which but few remained. 
The mountain hunters found this camp a profit- 
able market for their meat and deer-skins, with 
which the Mormons were now compelled to clothe 
themselves, and resorted there for that purpose — 
to say nothing of the attraction of the many 
really beautiful Missourian girls who sported 
their tall graceful figures at the frequent fan- 
dangos. Dancing and preaching go hand in hand 
in Mormon doctrine, and the temple was gener- 
ally cleared for a hop two or three times during 
the week, a couple of fiddles doing the duty of 
orchestra. A party of mountaineers came in one 



316 IN THE OLD WEST 

day, bringing some buffalo-meat and dressed deer- 
skins, and were invited to be present at one of 
these festivals. 

Arrived at the temple, they were rather taken 
aback by finding themselves in for a sermon, which 
one of the elders delivered preparatory to the 
" physical exercises." The preacher was one 
Brown — called, by reason of his commanding a 
company of Mormon volunteers, " Cap'n Brown " 

— a hard-featured, black-coated man of five-and- 
forty, correctly got up in black continuations, and 
white handkerchief round his neck, — a costume 
seldom seen at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. 
The Cap'n, rising, cleared his voice, and thus 
commenced, first turning to an elder (with whom 
there was a little rivalry in the way of preach- 
ing) : " Brother Dowdle " (brother Dowdle blushed 
and nodded, he was a long tallow-faced man, with 
black hair combed over his face), " I feel like 
holding forth a little this afternoon, before we 
glorify the Lord, — a — a — in the — a — holy 
dance. As there are a many strange gentlemen 
now — a — present, it's about right to tell 'em 

— a — what our doctrine just is; and so I tells 
'em right off what the Mormons is. They are 
the chosen of the Lord; they are the children of 
glory, persecuted by the hand of man: they flies 
here to the wilderness, and, amongst the Injine 
and the buffler, they lifts up their heads, and 
cries with a loud voice, ' Susannah, and hurray for 



IN THE OLD WEST 317 

the promised land ! ' Do you believe it ? I know 
it. 

" They wants to know whar we're going. 
Whar the church goes — thar we goes. Yes, to 
hell, and pull the devil off his throne — that's 
what well do. Do you believe it? I know it. 

" Thar's milk and honey in that land as we're 
goin' to, and the lost tribes of Israel is thar, and 
will jine us. They say as we'll starve on the road, 
bekase thar's no game and no water; but thar's 
manna up in heaven, and it'll rain on us, and 
thar's prophets among us can make the water 
* come.' Can't they, brother Dowdle ? " 

" WeU, they can." 

" And now, what have the Gtentiles and the 
VhJlhtines to say against us Mormons .? They 

says we're thieves, and steal hogs ; yes, d 

'em! they say w.e has as many wives as we like. 
So we have. I've twenty — forty, myself, and 
mean to have as many more as I can get. But 
it's to pass unfortunate females into heaven that 
I has 'em — yes, to prevent 'em going to roaring 
flames and damnation that I does it. 

" Brother Dowdle," he continued, in a hoarse, 
low voice, " I've ' give out,' and think we'd better 
begin the exercises grettful to the Lord." 

Brother Dowdle rose, and, after saying that 
**he didn't feel like saying much," begged to re- 
mind all hands that dancing was " solemn like, to 
be done with proper devotion, and not with laugh- 



318 IN THE OLD WEST 

ing and talking, of which he hoped to hear little 
or none; that joy was to be in their hearts, and 
not on their lips ; that they danced for the glory 
of the Lord, and not their own amusement, as 
did the GentUes.^' After saying thus, he called 
upon brother Ezra to " strike up " : sundry 
couples stood forth, and the ball commenced. 

Ezra of the violin was a tall shambling Mis- 
sourian, with a pair of homespun pantaloons 
thrust into the legs of his heavy boots. Nodding 
his head in time with the music, he occasionally 
gave instructions to such of the dancers as were 
at fault, singing them to the tune he was playing, 
in a dismal nasal tone, — 

" Down the center — hands across, 
You Jake Herring — thump it. 
Now, you all go right ahead — 
Every one of you hump it. 

Every one of you — htimip it" 

The last words being the signal that all should 
clap the steam on, which they did con amore, and 
with comical seriousness. 

A mountaineer. Rube Herring, whom we have 
more than once met in the course of this narra- 
tive, became a convert to the Mormon creed, and 
held forth its wonderful doctrines to such of the 
incredulous trappers as he could induce to listen 
to him. Old Rube stood nearly six feet six in 
height, and was spare and bony in make. He 



IN THE OLD WEST 319 

had picked up a most extraordinary cloth coat 
amongst the Mormons, which had belonged to 
some one his equal in stature. This coat, which 
was of a snufF-brown color, had its waist about 
a hand's span from the nape of Rube's neck, or 
about a yard above its proper position, and the 
skirts reached to his ankles. A slouching felt- 
hat covered his head, from which long black hair 
escaped, hanging in flakes over his lantern jaws. 
His pantaloons of buckskin were shrunk with wet, 
and reached midway between his knees and ankles, 
and his huge feet were incased in moccasins of 
bufFalo-cow skin. 

Rube was never without the book of Mormon 
in his hand, and his sonorous voice might be heard, 
at all hours of the day and night, reading pas- 
sages from its wonderful pages. He stood the 
badgering of the hunters with most perfect good- 
humor, and said there never was such a book as 
that ever before printed; that the Mormons were 
the " biggest kind " of prophets, and theirs the 
best faith ever man believed in. 

Rube had let out one day that he was to be 
hired as guide by this party of Mormons to the 
Great Salt Lake; but their destination being 
changed, and his services not required, a wonder- 
ful change came over his mind. He was, as usual, 
book of Mormon in hand, when brother Brown 
announced the change in their plans ; at which 
the book was cast into the Arkansa, and Rube 



320 IN THE OLD WEST 

exclaimed — " Cuss your darned Mummum and 
Thummum ! thar's not one among you knows fat 

cow from poor bull, and you may go to h 

for me." And turning away, old Rube spat out 
a quid of tobacco and his Mormonism together. 

Amongst the Mormons was an old man named 
Brand, from Memphis County, State of Tennessee, 
with a family of a daughter and two sons, the lat- 
ter with their wives and children. Brand was a 
wiry old fellow, nearly seventy years of age, but 
still stout and strong, and wielded ax or rifle 
better than many a younger man. If truth be 
told, he was not a very red-hot Mormon, and had 
joined them as much for the sake of company to 
California, whither he had long resolved to emi- 
grate, as from any implicit credence in the faith. 
His sons were strapping fellows, of the sterling 
stuff that the Western pioneers are made of; his 
daughter Mary, a fine woman of thirty, for whose 
state of single blessedness there must doubtless 
have been sufficient reason ; for she was not only 
remarkably handsome, but was well known in 
Memphis to be the best-tempered and most in- 
dustrious young woman in those diggings. She 
was known to have received several advantageous 
offers, all of which she had refused; and report 
said that it was from having been disappointed in 
very early life in an affaire du coeur, at an age 
when such wounds sometimes strike strong and 
deep, leaving a scar difficult to heal. Neither his 



IN THE OLD WEST 321 

daughter nor any of his family had been con- 
verted to the Mormon doctrine, but had ever kept 
themselves aloof, and refused to join or associate 
with them ; and, for this reason, the family had been 
very unpopular with the Mormon families on the 
Arkansa; and hence, probably, one great reason 
why they now started alone on their journey. 

Spring had arrived, and it was time the Mor- 
mons should proceed on their march ; but whether 
already tired of the sample they had had of life 
in the wilderness, or fearful of encountering the 
pferils of the Indian country, not one amongst 
them, with the exception of old Brand, seemed in- 
clined to pursue the journey farther. That old 
backwoodsman, however, was not to be deterred, 
but declared his intention of setting out alone, 
with his family, and risking all the dangers to be 
anticipated. 

One fine sunny evening in April of 184)7, when 
the cottonwoods on the banks of the Arkansa be- 
gan to put forth their buds, and robins and blue- 
birds — harbingers of spring — were hopping 
with gaudy plumage through the thickets, three 
white-tilted Conestoga wagons emerged from the 
timbered bottom of the river, and rumbled slowly 
over the prairie, in the direction of the Platte's 
waters. Each wagon was drawn by eight oxen, 
and contained a portion of the farming imple- 
ments and household utensils of the Brand family. 
The teams were driven by the young boys, the 



3£2 IN THE OLD WEST 

men following in rear with shouldered rifles — 
old Brand himself, mounted on an Indian horse, 
leading the advance. The women were safely 
housed under the shelter of the wagon-tilts, and 
out of the first the mild face of Mary Brand 
smiled adieu to many of her old companions who 
had accompanied them thus far, and now wished 
them "God-speed" on their long journey. Some 
mountaineers, too, galloped up dressed in buck- 
skin, and gave them rough greeting — warning 
the men to keep their " eyes skinned," and look 
out for the Arapahos, who were out on the 
waters of the Platte. Presently all retired, and 
then the huge wagons and the little company were 
rolling on their solitary way through the deserted 
prairies — passing the first of the many thousand 
miles which lay between them and the " setting 
sun," as the Indians style the distant regions of 
the Far West. And on, without casting a look 
behind him, doggedly and boldly marched old 
Brand, followed by his sturdy family. 

They made but a few miles that evening, for 
the first day the start is all that is effected; and 
nearly the whole morning is taken up in getting 
fairly under weigh. The loose stock had been 
sent off earlier, for they had been collected and 
corraled the previous night; and, after a twelve 
hours' fast, it was necessary they should reach 
the end of the day's journey betimes. They 
found the herd grazing in the bottom of the Ar- 



IN THE OLD WEST 32S 

kansa, at a point previously fixed upon for their 
first camp. Here the oxen were unyoked, and 
the wagons drawn up so as to form three sides 
of a small square. The women then descended 
from their seats, and prepared the evening meal. 
A huge fire was kindled before the wagons, and 
round this the whole party collected ; whilst large 
kettles of coffee boiled on it, and hoe-cakes baked 
upon the embers. 

The women were sadly down-hearted, as well 
they might be, with the dreary prospect before 
them ; and poor Mary, when she saw the Mormon 
encampment shut out from her sight by the roll- 
ing bluffs, and nothing before her but the bleak 
barren prairie, could not divest herself of the 
idea that she had looked for the last time on civil- 
ized fellow-creatures, and fairly burst into tears. 

In the morning the heavy wagons rolled on 
again across the upland prairies, to strike the trail 
used by the traders in passing from the south fork 
of the Platte to the Arkansa. They had for 
guide a Canadian voyageur, who had been in the 
service of the Indian traders, and knew the route 
well, and who had agreed to pilot them to Fort 
Lancaster, on the north fork of the Platte. Their 
course led for about thirty miles up the Boiling 
Spring River, whence they pursued a north- 
easterly course to the dividing ridge which sepa- 
rates the waters of the Platte and Arkansa. Their 
progress was slow, for the ground was saturated 



324< IN THE OLD WEST 

with wet, and exceedingly heavy for the cattle, 
and they scarcely advanced more than ten miles 
a-day. 

At the camp-fire at night, Antoine, the Cana- 
dian guide, amused them with tales of the wild life 
and perilous adventures of the hunters and trap- 
pers who make the mountains their home; often 
extorting a scream from the women by the de- 
scription of some scene of Indian fight and slaugh- 
ter, or beguiling them of a commiserating tear 
by the narrative of the sufferings and privations 
endured by those hardy hunters in their arduous 
life. 

Mary listened with the greater interest since 
she remembered that such was the life which had 
been led by one very dear to her — by one long 
supposed to be dead, of whom she had never but 
once since his departure, nearly fifteen years be- 
fore, heard a syllable. Her imagination pictured 
him as the bravest and most daring of these ad- 
venturous hunters, and conjured up his figure 
charging through the midst of whooping sav- 
ages, or stretched on the ground perishing from 
wounds, or cold, or famine. 

Amongst the characters who figured in An- 
toine's stories, a hunter named La Bonte was 
made conspicuous for deeds of hardiness and dar- 
ing. The first mention of the name caused the 
blood to rush to Mary's face; not that she for 
a moment imagined it was her La Bonte, for she 



IN THE OLD WEST 325 

knew the name was a common one ; but, associated 
with feelings which she had never got the better 
of, it recalled a sad epoch in her former life, to 
which she could not look back without mingled 
pain and pleasure. 

Once only, and about two years after his de- 
parture, had she ever received tidings of her 
former lover. A mountaineer had returned from 
the Far West to settle in his native state, and had 
found his way to the neighborhood of old Brand's 
farm. Meeting him by accident, Mary, hearing 
him speak of the mountain hunters, had inquired, 
tremblingly, after La Bonte. Her informant 
knew him well — had trapped in company with 
him — and had heard at the trading-fort, whence 
he had taken his departure for the settlements, 
that La Bonte had been killed on the Yellow 
Stone by Blackfeet; which report was confirmed 
by some Indians of that nation. This was all she 
had ever learned of the lover of her youth. 

Now, upon hearing the name of La Bonte so 
often mentioned by Antoine, a vague hope was 
raised in her breast that he was still alive; and 
she took an opportunity of questioning the Cana- 
dian closely on the subject. 

" Who was this La Bonte, Antoine, who you 
say was so brave a mountaineer.^ " she asked one 
day. 

" J'ne sais pas ; he vas un beau gar9on, and 
strong comme le diable — enfant de garce, mais 



326 IN THE OLD WEST 

he pas not care a dam for les sauvages, pe gar. 
He shoot de centare avec his carabine, and ride 
de cheval comme one Comanche. He trap heap 
castor (what you call beevare), and get plenty 
dollare — mais he open hand vare wide — and got 
none too. Den, he hont vid de Blackfoot and avec 
de Cheyenne, and all round de montaignes he hont 
dam sight." 

"But, Antoine, what became of him at last.^ 
and why did he not come home, when he made so 
many dollars.^" asked poor Mary. 

" Enfant de garce, mais pourquoi he com home.^^ 
Pe gar, de montaigne-man, he love de montaigne 
and de prairie more better dan he love de grandes 
villes — meme de St. Louis ou de Montreal. 
Wagh! La Bonte, well, he one montaigne-man, 
wagh ! He love de buff aloe and de chevreaux plus 
que de boeuf and de mouton, majhe. Mais on dit 
dat he have autre raison — dat de gal he lofe in 
Missouri not lofe him, and for dis he not go back. 
Mais now he go ondare, m'on dit. He vas go to 
de Californe, maybe to steal de hose and de mule 
— pe gar, and de Espagnols rub him out, and take 
his hair, so he mort." 

" But are you sure of this ? " she asked, trem- 
bling with grief. 

"Ah, now, j'ne suis pas sur; mais I tink you 
know dis La Bonte. Enfant de garce, maybe you 
de gal in Missouri he lofe, and not lofe him. Pe 
gar! 'fant de garce! fort beau gar9on dis La 



IN THE OLD WEST 327 

Bonte; pourquoi you ne I'aimez pas? Maybe he 
not go ondare. Maybe he turn op, autrefois. 
De trappares, dey go ondare tree, four, ten times, 
mais dey turn op twenty time. De sauvage not 
able for kill La Bonte, ni de dam Espagnols. Ah, 
non ! ne craignez pas ; be gar, he not gone ondare 
encore." 

Spite of the good-natured attempts of the Cana- 
dian, poor Mary burst into a flood of tears : not 
that the information took her unawares, for she 
long had believed her lover dead ; but because the 
very mention of his name awoke the strongest feel- 
ings within her breast, and taught her how deep 
was the affection she had felt for him whose loss 
and violent fate she now bewailed. 

As the wagons of the lone caravan roll on 
towards the Platte, we return to the camp where 
La Bonte, Killbuck, and the stranger, were sitting 
before the fire when last we saw them. Killbuck 
loquitur : — 

" The doin's of them Mormon fools can't be 
beat by Spaniards, stranger. Their mummums 
and thummums you speak of won't shine whar In- 
juns are about; nor pint out a trail, whar nothin' 
crossed but rattler-snakes since fust it snowed on 
old Pike's Peak. If they pack along them 
profits^ as you tell of, who can make it rain hump- 
ribs and marrow-guts when the crowd gets out of 
the buffler range, they are some, now, that's a 
fact. But this child don't believe it. I'd laugh 



S28 IN THE OLD WEST 

to get a sight on these darned Mormonites, I 
would. They're no account, I guess ; and it's the 
meanest kind of action to haul their women crit- 
ters and their young 'uns to sech a starving coun- 
try as the Californys." 

" They are not all Mormons in the crowd," said 
the strange hunter ; " and there's one family 
amongst them with some smartish boys and girls, 
I tell you. Their name's Brand." 

La Bonte looked up from the lock of his rifle, 
which he was cleaning — but either didn't hear, 
or, hearing, didn't heed, for he continued his work. 

" And they are going to part company," con- 
tinued the stranger, " and put out alone for 
Platte and the South Pass." 

" They'll lose their hair, I'm thinking," said 
Killbuck, " if the Rapahos are out thar." 

" I hope not," continued the other, " for there's 
a girl amongst them worth more than that." 

" Poor beaver ! " said La Bonte, looking up 
from his work. " I'd hate to see any white gal 
in the hands of Injuns, and of Rapahos worse than 
all. Where does she come from, stranger.'' " 

" Down below St. Louis, from Tennessee, I've 
heard them say." 

" Tennessee," cried La Bonte, — " hurrah for 

the old state! What's her name, stran " 

At this moment Killbuck's old mule pricked her 
ears and snuffed the air, which action catching 
La Bonte's eye, he rose abruptly, without waiting 



IN THE OLD WEST 329 

a reply to his question, and exclaimed, " The old 
mule smells Injuns, or I'm a Spaniard!" 

The hunter did the old mule justice, and she 
well maintained her reputation as the best guard 
in the mountains ; for in two minutes an Indian 
stalked into the camp, dressed in a cloth capote, 
and in odds and ends of civilized attire. 

" Rapaho," cried Killbuck, as soon as he saw 
him; and the Indian catching the word, struck 
his hand upon his breast, and exclaimed, in broken 
Spanish and English mixed, " Si, si, me Arapaho, 
white man amigo. Come to camp — eat heap 
came — me amigo white man. Come from Pueblo 
— hunt cibola — me gun break — no puedo matar 
nada: mucha hamhre (very hungry) — heap 
eat." 

Killbuck offered his pipe to the Indian, anu 
spoke to him in his own language, which both he 
and La Bonte well understood. They learned that 
h^ was married to a Mexican woman, and lived 
with some hunters at the Pueblo fort on the Ar- 
kansa. He volunteered the information that a 
war-party of his people were out on the Platte 
trail to intercept the Indian traders on their re- 
turn from the North Fork ; and as some " Mor- 
mones " had just started with three wagons in that 
direction, he said his people would make a " raise." 
Being muy amigo himself to the whites, he cau- 
tioned his present companions from crossing to 
the divide, as the braves, he said, were a heap 



330 IN THE OLD WEST 

mad, and their hearts were big, and nothing in 
the shape of white skin would live before them. 

"Wagh!" exclaimed Killbuck, "the Rapahos 
know me, I'm thinking; and small gain they've 
made against this child. I've knowed the time 
when my gun-cover couldn't hold more of their 
scalps." 

The Indian was provided with some powder, of 
which he stood in need ; and after gorging as much 
meat as his capacious stomach would hold, he 
left the camp, and started into the mountain. 

The next day our hunters started on their jour- 
ney down the river, traveling leisurely, and stop- 
ping wherever good grass presented itself. One 
morning they suddenly struck a wheel-trail, which 
left the creek-banks and pursued a course at right 
angles to it, in the direction of the divide. Kill- 
buck pronounced it but a few hours old, and that 
of three wagons drawn by oxen. 

" Wagh ! " he exclaimed, " if them poor devils 
of Mormonites ain't going head first into the 
Rapaho trap. They'll be gone beaver afore 
long." 

" Aye," said the strange hunter, " these are the 
wagons belonging to old Brand, and he has started 
alone for Laramie. I hope nothing will happen 
to them." 

" Brand ! " muttered La Bonte. " I knowed 
that name mighty well once, years agone; and 
should hate the worst kind that mischief happened 



IN THE OLD WEST 331 

to any one who bore it. This trail's as fresh as 
paint, and it goes against me to let these simple 
critters help the Rapahos to their own hair. This 
child feels like helping 'em out of the scrape. 
What do you say, old hoss ? " 

" I thinks with you, boy," answered Killbuck, 
" and go in for following this wagon-trail, and 
telling the poor critters that thar's danger ahead 
of them. What's your talk, stranger? " 

" I go with you," shortly answered the latter ; 
and both followed quickly after La Bonte, who 
was already trotting smartly on the trail. 

Meanwhile the three wagons, containing the 
household gods of the Brand family, rumbled slowly 
over the rolling prairie, and towards the upland 
ridge of the divide, which, studded with dwarf- 
pine and cedar thicket, rose gradually before them. 
They traveled with considerable caution, for al- 
ready the quick eye of Antoine had discovered 
recent Indian sign upon the trail, and with moun- 
tain quickness had at once made it out to be that 
of a war-party: for there were no horses with 
them, and after one or two of the moccasin-tracks, 
the mark of a rope which trailed upon the ground 
was sufficient to show him that the Indians were 
provided with the usual lasso of skin, with which 
to secure the horses stolen in the expedition. 
The men of the party were consequently all 
mounted and thoroughly armed, the wagons moved 
in a line abreast, and a sharp look-out was kept 



SS2 IN THE OLD WEST 

on all sides. The women and children were all 
consigned to the interior of the wagons ; and the 
latter had also guns in readiness to take their 
part in the defense, should an attack be made. 

However, thej had seen no Indians, and no fresh 
sign, for two days after they left the Boiling 
Spring River, and they began to think they were 
well out of their neighborhood. One evening they 
camped on a creek called Black Horse, and, as 
usual, had corraled the wagons, and forted as 
well as circumstances would permit, when three or 
four Indians suddenly appeared on a bluff at a 
little distance, and, making signals of peaceable 
intentions, approached the camp. Most of the 
men were absent at the time, attending to the 
cattle or collecting fuel, and only old Brand and 
one of his young grandchildren, about fourteen 
years old, remained in camp. The Indians were 
hospitably received, and regaled with a smoke, 
after which they began to evince their curiosity 
by examining every article lying about, and signi- 
fying their wishes that it should be given to' them. 
Finding their hints were not taken, they laid hold 
of several things which took their fancies, and, 
amongst others, of the pot which was boiling on 
the fire, and with which one of them was about 
very coolly to walk off, when old Brand, who up 
to this moment had retained possession of his 
temper, seized it out of the Indian's hand and 
knocked him down. One of the others instantly 



IN THE OLD WEST 



began to draw the buckskin cover from his gun, 
and would no doubt have taken summary venge- 
ance for the insult offered to his companion, when 
Mary Brand courageously stepped up to him, 
and, placing her left hand upon the gun which he 
was in the act of uncovering, with the other pointed 
a pistol at his breast. 

Whether daunted by the bold act of the girl, 
or admiring her devotion to her father, the Indian 
drew himself back, exclaimed " Howgh ! " and 
drew the cover again on his piece, went up to old 
Brand, who all this time looked him sternly in the 
face, and, shaking him by the hand, motioned at 
the same time to the other to be peaceable. 

The other whites presently coming into camp, 
the Indians sat quietly down by the fire, and when 
the supper was ready, joined in the repast, after 
which they gathered their buffalo-robes about 
them, and quietly withdrew. Meanwhile An- 
toine, knowing the treacherous character of the 
savages, advised that the greatest precaution 
should be taken to secure the stock; and before 
dark, therefore, all the mules and horses were hob- 
bled and secured within the corral, the oxen being 
allowed to feed at liberty — for the Indians 
scarcely care to trouble themselves with such cat- 
tle. A guard was also set round the camp, and 
relieved every two hours ; the fire was extinguished, 
lest the savages should aim, by its light, at any 
of the party, and all slept with rifles ready at 



3S4 IN THE OLD WEST 

their sides. However, the night passed quietly, 
and nothing disturbed the tranquillity of the camp. 
The prairie wolves loped hungrily around, and 
their mournful cry was borne upon the wind, as 
they chased deer and antelope on the neighbor- 
ing plain ; but not a sign of lurking Indians was 
seen or heard. 

In the morning, shortly after sunrise, they were 
in the act of yoking the oxen to the wagons, and 
driving in the loose animals which had been turned 
out to feed at daybreak, when some Indians again 
appeared upon the bluff, and, descending it, con- 
fidently approached the camp. Antoine strongly 
advised their not being allowed to enter; but 
Brand, ignorant of Indian treachery, replied that, 
so long as they came as friends, they could not 
be deemed enemies, and allowed no obstruction to 
be offered to their approach. It was now observed 
that they were all painted, armed with bows and 
arrows, and divested of their buffalo-robes, ap- 
pearing naked to the breech-clout, their legs only 
being protected by deer-skin leggings, reaching 
to the middle of the thigh. Six or seven first ar- 
rived, and others quickly followed, dropping in one 
after the other, until a score or more were collected 
round the wagons. Their demeanor, at first 
friendly, soon changed as their numbers increased, 
and they now became urgent in their demands for 
powder and lead, and bullying in their manner. 
A chief accosted Brand, and, through Antoine, 



IN THE OLD WEST 335 

informed him that, unless the demands of his 
braves were acceded to, he could not be respon- 
sible for the consequences ; that they were out on 
the war-trail, and their eyes were red with blood, 
so that they could not distinguish between white 
and Yuta scalps ; that the party, with all their 
women and wagons, were in the power of the In- 
dian braves, and therefore the white chief's best 
plan was to make the best terms he could ; that all 
they required was that they should give up their 
guns and ammunition " on the prairie," and all 
their mules and horses — retaining the " medicine 
buffaloes " (the oxen) " to draw their wagons." 

By this time the oxen were yoked, and the team- 
sters, whip in hand, only waited the word to start. 
Old Brand foamed whilst the Indian stated his de- 
mands, but, hearing him to the end, exclaimed, 
" Darn the red devil ! I wouldn't give him a grain 
of powder to save my life. Put out, boys ! " — 
and turning to his horse, which stood ready sad- 
dled, was about to mount, when the Indians sprang 
at once upon the wagons, and commenced their 
attack, yelling like fiends. 

One jumped upon old Brand, pulled him back 
as he was rising in the stirrup, and drew his bow 
upon him at the same moment. In an instant the 
old backwoodsman pulled a pistol from his belt, 
and, putting the muzzle to the Indian's heart, shot 
him dead. Another Indian, flourishing his war- 
club, laid the old man at his feet; whilst some 



336 IN THE OLD WEST 

dragged the women from the wagons, and others 
rushed upon the men, who made brave fight in their 
defense. 

Mary, when she saw her father struck to the 
ground, sprang with a shrill cry to his assistance ; 
for at that moment a savage, frightful as red paint 
could make him, was standing over his prostrate 
body, brandishing a glittering knife in the air, 
preparatory to thrusting it into the old man's 
breast. For the rest, all was confusion: in vain 
the small party of whites struggled against over- 
powering numbers. Their rifles cracked but once, 
and they were quickly disarmed ; whilst the shrieks 
of the women and children, and the loud yells of 
the Indians, added to the scene of horror and con- 
fusion. As Mary flew to her father's side, an In- 
dian threw his lasso at her, the noose falling over 
her shoulders, and jerking it tight, he uttered a 
delighted yell as the poor girl was thrown back 
violently to the ground. As she fell, another de- 
liberately shot an arrow at her body, whilst the 
one who had thrown the lasso rushed forward, his 
scalp-knife flashing in his hand, to seize the bloody 
trophy of his savage deed. The girl rose to her 
knees, and looked wildly towards the spot where 
her father lay bathed in blood; but the Indian 
pulled the rope violently, dragged her some yards 
upon the ground, and then rushed with a yell of 
vengeance upon his victim. He paused, however, 
as at that moment a shout as fierce as his own 



IN THE OLD WEST 337 

sounded at his very ear; and, looking up, he saw 
La Bonte galloping madly down the bluff, his long 
hair and the fringes of his hunting-shirt and leg- 
gings flying in the wind, his right arm supporting 
his trusty rifle, whilst close behind him came Kill- 
buck and the stranger. Dashing with loud hur- 
rahs to the scene of action, La Bonte, as he charged 
down the bluffs, caught sight of the girl struggling 
in the hands of the ferocious Indian. Loud was 
the war-shout of the mountaineer, as he struck 
his heavy spurs to the rowels in his horse's side, 
and bounded like lightning to the rescue. In a 
single stride he was upon the Indian, and thrusting 
the muzzle of his rifle into his very breast, he pulled 
the trigger, driving the savage backward by the 
blow itself, at the same moment that the bullet 
passed through his heart and tumbled him over 
stone-dead. Throwing down his rifle. La Bonte 
wheeled his obedient horse, and, drawing a pistol 
from his belt, again charged the enemy, among 
whom Killbuck and the stranger were dealing 
death-giving blows. Yelling for victory, the 
mountaineers rushed at the Indians ; and they, 
panic-stricken at the sudden attack, and thinking 
this was but the advanced-guard of a large band, 
fairly turned and fled, leaving five of their number 
dead upon the field. 

Mary, shutting her eyes to the expected death- 
stroke, heard the loud shout La Bonte gave in 
charging down the bluff*, and, again looking up, 



338 IN THE OLD WEST 

saw the wild-looking mountaineer rush to her 
rescue, and save her from the savage by his timely 
blow. Her arms were still pinned by the lasso, 
which prevented her from rising to her feet ; and La 
Bonte was the first to run to aid her, as soon as 
the fight was fairly over. He jumped from his 
horse, cut the skin-rope which bound her, raised 
her from the ground, and, upon her turning up 
her face to thank him, beheld his never-to-be-for- 
gotten Mary Brand; whilst she, hardly believing 
her senses, recognized in her deliverer her former 
lover, and still well-beloved La Bonte. 

" What, Mary ! can it be you? " he asked, look- 
ing intently upon the trembling woman. 

" La Bonte, you don't forget me ! " she answered, 
and threw herself sobbing into the arms of the 
sturdy mountaineer. 

There we will leave her for the present, and help 
Killbuck and his companions to examine the killed 
and wounded. Of the former, five Indians and 
two whites lay dead, the latter grandchildren of 
old Brand, fine lads of fourteen or fifteen, who had 
fought with the greatest bravery, and lay pierced 
with arrows and lance-wounds. Old Brand had 
received a sore buffet, but a hatful of cold water 
from the creek sprinkled over his face soon re- 
stored him. His sons had not escaped scot-free, 
and Antoine was shot through the neck, and, fall- 
ing, had actually been half-scalped by an Indian, 



IN THE OLD WEST 



whom the timely arrival of La Bonte had caused to 
leave his work unfinished. 

Silently, and with sad hearts, the survivors of 
the family saw the bodies of the two boys buried 
on the river-bank, and the spot marked with a pile 
of loose stones, procured from the rocky bed of the 
creek. The carcasses of the treacherous Indians 
were left to be devoured by wolves, and their bones 
to bleach in the sun and wind — a warning to their 
tribe, that such foul treachery as they had medi- 
tated had met with a merited retribution. 

The next day the party continued their course 
to the Platte. Antoine and the stranger returned 
to the Arkansa, starting in the night to avoid the 
Indians; but Killbuck and La Bonte lent the aid 
of their rifles to the solitary caravan, and, under 
their experienced guidance, no more Indian perils 
were encountered. Mary no longer sat perched 
up in her father's Conestoga, but rode a quiet 
mustang by La Bonte's side; and no doubt they 
found a theme with which to while away the mo- 
notonous journey over the dreary plains. South 
Fork was passed, and Laramie was reached. The 
Sweet Water Mountains, which hang over the pass 
to California, were long since in sight; but when 
the waters of the North Fork of Platte lay before 
their horses' feet, and the broad trail was pointed 
out which led to the great valley of Columbia and 
their promised land, the heads of the oxen were 



340 IN THE OLD WEST 

turned down the stream, where the shallow waters 
flow on to join the great Missouri — and not up, 
towards the mountains, where they leave their 
spring-heads, — from which springs flow several 
waters, some coursing their way to the eastward, 
fertilizing, in their route to the Atlantic, the lands 
of civilized man, others westward, forcing a pas- 
sage through rocky canons, and flowing through 
a barren wilderness, inhabited by fierce and bar- 
barous tribes. 

These were the routes to choose between; and, 
whatever was the cause, the oxen turned their 
yoked heads away from the rugged mountains ; the 
teamsters joyfully cracked their ponderous whips, 
as the wagons rolled lightly down the Platte ; and 
men, women, and children waved their hats and 
bonnets in the air and cried out lustily, " Hurrah 
for home ! " 

La Bonte looked at the dark somber mountains 
ere he turned his back upon them for the last time. 
He thought of the many years he had spent be- 
neath their rugged shadow, of the many hardships 
he had suffered, of all his pains and perils in those 
wild regions. The most exciting episodes of his 
adventurous career, his tried companions in scenes 
of fierce fight and bloodshed, passed in review be- 
fore him. A feeling of regret was creeping over 
him, when Mary laid her hand gently on his shoul- 
der. One single tear rolled unbidden down his 
cheek, and he answered her inquiring eyes : " I'm 



IN THE OLD WEST 341 

not sorry to leave it, Mary," he said ; " but it's 
hard to turn one's back upon old friends." 

They had a hard battle with Killbuck, in en- 
deavoring to persuade him to accompany them to 
the settlements. The old mountaineer shook his 
head. The time, he said, was gon2 by for that. 
He had often thought of it, but, when the day ar- 
rived, he hadn't heart to leave the mountains. 
Trapping now was of no account, he knew; but 
beaver was bound to rise, and then the good times 
would come again. What could he do in the set- 
tlements, where there wasn't room to move, and 
where it was hard to breathe — there were so many 
people ? 

He accompanied them a considerable distance 
down the river, ever and anon looking cautiously 
back, to ascertain that he had not gone out of sight 
of the mountains. Before reaching the forks, how- 
ever, he finally bade them adieu ; and, turning the 
head of his old grizzled mule westward, he heartily 
wrung the hand of his comrade La Bonte ; and, cry- 
ing Yep ! to his well-tried animal, disappeared be- 
hind a roll of the prairie, and was seen no more 
— a thousand good wishes for the welfare of 
the sturdy trapper speeding him on his solitary 
way. 

Four months from the day when La Bonte so 
opportunely appeared to rescue Brand's family 
from the Indians on Black Horse Creek, that 
worthy and the faithful Mary were duly and law- 



342 IN THE OLD WEST 

fully united in the township church of Brandville, 
Memphis County, State of Tennessee. We cannot 
say, in the concluding words of nine hundred and 
ninety-nine thousand novels, that " numerous 
pledges of mutual love surrounded and cheered 
them in their declining years," &c., &c. ; because 
it was only on the 24th of July, in the year of our 
Lord 1847, that La Bonte and Mary Brand were 
finally made one, after fifteen long years of separa- 
tion. 

The fate of one of the humble characters who 
have figured in these pages we must yet tarry a 
little longer to describe. 

During the past winter, a party of mountaineers, 
flying from overpowering numbers of hostile Sioux, 
found themselves, one stormy evening, in a wild and 
dismal canon near the elevated mountain valley 
called the New Park. 

The rocky bed of a dry mountain torrent, Avhose 
waters were now locked up at their spring-heads 
by icy fetters, was the only road up which they 
could make their difficult way ; for the rugged sides 
of the gorge rose precipitously from the creek, 
scarcely affording a foot-hold to even the active 
bighorn, which occasionally looked down upon the 
travelers from the lofty summit. Logs of pine up- 
rooted by the hurricanes which sweep incessantly 
through the mountain defiles, and tossed headlong 
from the surrounding ridges, continually ob- 
structed their way ; and huge rocks and boulders, 



IN THE OLD WEST 343 

fallen from the heights and blocking up the bed 
of the stream, added to the difficulty, and threat- 
ened them every instant with destruction. 

Towards sundown they reached a point where 
the canon opened out into a little shelving glade 
or prairie, a few hundred yards in extent, the en- 
trance to which was almost hidden by thicket of 
dwarf pine and cedar. Here they determined to 
encamp for the night, in a spot secure from In- 
dians, and, as they imagined, untrodden by the 
foot of man. 

What, however, was their astonishment, on 
breaking through the cedar-covered entrance, to 
perceive a solitary horse standing motionless in 
the center of the prairie. Drawing near, they 
found it to be an old grizzled mustang, or In- 
dian pony, with cropped ears and ragged tail 
(well picked by hungry mules), standing doubled 
up with cold, and at the very last gasp from ex- 
treme old age and weakness. Its bones were 
nearly through the stiffened skin, the legs of the 
animal were gathered under it; whilst its forlorn- 
looking head and stretched-out neck hung list- 
lessly downwards, almost overbalancing its totter- 
ing body. The glazed and sunken eye — the pro- 
truding and froth-covered tongue — the heaving 
flank and quivering tail — declared its race was 
run ; and the driving sleet and snow, and penetrat- 
ing winter blast, scarce made impression upon its 
callous and worn-out frame. 



344 IN THE OLD WEST 

One of the band of mountaineers was Marcelline, 
and a single look at the miserable beast was suffi- 
cient for him to recognize the once renowned Nez- 
perce steed of old Bill Williams. That the owner 
himself was not far distant he felt certain; and, 
[searching carefully around, the hunters presently 
came upon an old camp, before which lay, pro- 
truding from the snow, the blackened remains of 
pine logs. Before these, which had been the fire, 
and leaning with his back against a pine trunk, 
and his legs crossed under him, half covered with 
snow, reclined the figure of the old mountaineer, 
his snow-capped head bent over his breast. His 
well-known hunting-coat of fringed elk-skin hung 
stiff and weather-stained about him ; and his rifle, 
packs, and traps were strewed around. 

Awe-struck, the trappers approached the body, 
and found it frozen hard as stone, in which state 
it had probably lain there for many days or weeks. 
A jagged rent in the breast of his leather coat, 
and dark stains about it, showed he had received 
R wound before his death; but it was impossible 
to say, whether to his hurt, or to sickness, or to 
the natural decay of age, was to be attributed 
the wretched and solitary end of poor Bill Wil- 
liams. 

A friendly bullet cut short the few remaining 
hours of the trapper's faithful steed; and bury- 
ing, as well as they were able, the body of the 
old mountaineer, the hunters next day left him 



IN THE OLD WEST 345 

in his lonely grave, in a spot so wild and remote, 
that it was doubtful whether even hungry wolves 
would discover and disinter his attenuated corpse. 



THE END 



OUTING 
A D YEN TUR E 
LIBRARY 

Edited by Horace Kephart 

^ Here are brought together for the first time the great stories of 
adventure of all ages end countries. These are the personal records 
of the men who climbed the mountains and penetrated the jungles; 
who explored the seas and crossed the deserts; who knew the 
chances and took them, and lived to write their own tales of hard> 
ship and endurance and achievement. The series will consist of 
an indeterminate number of volumes — for the stories are myriad. 
The whole will be edited by Horace Kephart. Each volume 
answers the test of these two questions : Is it true ? Is it interesting? 
^ The entire series is uniform in style and binding. Among the 
titles now ready or in preparation are those described on the fol 
lowing pages. 

PRICE $1.00 EACH, NET. POSTAGE 10 CENTS EXTRA 
THE NUMBERS MAKE ORDERING CONVENIENT 

1. IN THE OLD WEST, by George Frederick 

Ruxton. The men who blazed the trail across the Rockies to the 
Pacific were the independent trappers and hunters in the days 
before the Mexican war. They left no records of their adventures 
and most of them linger now only as shadowy names. But a young 
Englishman lived among them for a time, saw life from their point 
of view, trapped with them and fought with them against the 
Indians. That was George Frederick Ruxton. His story is our 
only complete picture of the Old "West in the days of the real 
Pioneers, of Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, Bill Williams, the Sublettes, 
and all the rest of that glorious company of the forgotten who 
opened the West. 



2. CASTAWAYS AND CRUSOES. Since the begin- 
nings of navigation men have faced the dangers of shipwreck 
and starvation. Scattered through the annals of the sea are the 
stories of those to whom disaster came and the personal records of 
the way they met it. Some of them are given in this volume, narra- 
tives of men who lived by their hands among savages and on forlorn 
coasts, or drifted helpless in open boats. They range from the 
South Seas to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, from the iron coast of Pata- 
gonia to the shores of Cuba. They are echoes from the days when 
the best that could be hoped by the man who went to sea was hard- 
ship and man's-sized work. 

3, CAPTIVES AMONG THE INDIANS. First of all 

is the story of Captain James Smith, who was captured by the Dela- 
wares at the time of Braddock's defeat, was adopted into the tribe, 
and for four years lived as an Indian, hunting with them, studying 
their habits, and learning their point of view. Then there is the 
story of Father Bressani who felt the tortures of the Iroquois, of 
Mary Rowlandson who was among the human spoils of King 
Philip's war, and of Mercy Harbison who suftered in the red flood 
that followed St. Clair's defeat. All are personal records made by 
the actors themselves in those days when the Indian was constantly 
at our forefathers's doors. 



4. FIRST THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON, by 

Major John Wesley Powell. Major Powell was an officer in the 
Union Army who lost an arm at Shiloh. In spite of this four years 
after the war he organized an expedition which explored the Grand 
Canyon of the Colorado in boats— the first to make this journey. His 
story has been lost for years in the oblivion of a scientific report. 
It is here rescued and presented as a record of one of the great 
personal exploring feats, fitted to rank with the exploits of Pike, 
Lewis and Clark, and Mackenzie. 

5. ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC ICE-PACK, By 

Elisha Kent Kane, M. D. Out of the many expeditions that 
went north in search of Sir John Franklia over fifty years ago, it fell 
to the lot of one, financed by a New York merchant, to spend an 
Arctic winter drifting aimlessly in the grip of the Polar ice in Lan- 
caster Sound. The surgeon of the expedition kept a careful diary 
and out of that record told the first complete story of a Far Northern 
winter. That story is here presented, shorn of the purely scientific 
data and stripped to the personal exploits and adventures of the 
author and the other members of the crew. . 



?'f|ljf''f&t!i 



..,n 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




016 098 393 • 



